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Bradford  A.  Booth  Collection 


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UCLA 


V^    < 

V 


Morlts  of  3o!jn  (Salt 


SIR    ANDREW    WYLIE 

OF   THAT   ILK 
I. 


JOHN   QALT'S  NOVELS. 

A  new  illustrated  edition.  With  an  Introduc- 
tion by  S.  R.  Crockett.  The  text  revised 
and  edited  by  D.  Storrar  Meldrum.  With 
portrait  and  illustrations  from  drawings 
by  John  Wallace.  IGmo  volumes,  cloth. 
Price,  $1.25  each. 

THE    ANNALS    OF    THE    PARISH    AND    THE 

AYRSHIRE   LEGATEES.    2  vols. 
SLR  ANDREW  WYLLE.    2  vola. 
THE     PROVOST    AND    THE    LAST     OF    THE 

LAIRDS.    2  vols. 
THE  ENTAIL.     2  vob. 


ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


Honest   woman,  ye 're  in   a  mistake. 


Works  of  John  Gait.     Edited  l)ij  D.  Sturrar  Mcldrum 

SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

OF   THAT   ILK 


WITH    INTRODUCTION 

BY   S.    R.    CROCKETT 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  JOHN   WALLACE 


VOLUME    I. 


BOSTON 
ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1805 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  COTTAGE   

CHAPTER  II 
THE  MAGPIE 


PAOE 

xiii 


THE  TASK  . 


THE  FAIR  . 


CHAPTER  III 


CHAPTER  IV 


CHAPTER  V 


COMMON-SENSE 

CHAPTER  VI 
THE  CONSULTATION  . 


THE  OUTFIT 


CHANGES    . 


PREPARATIONS 


CHAPTER  VII 


CHAPTER  VIII 


CHAPTER  IX 


13 


21 


28 


35 


41 


47 


52 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  X 

PAfiK 

DEPARTURE 69 

CHAPTER  XI 
EDINBURGH 66 

CHAPTER  XII 
LONDON 72 

CHAPTER  XIII 
FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 82 

CHAPTER  XIV 
A  MASQUERADE 90 

CHAPTER  XV 
AN  INVITATION 93 

CHAPTER  XVI 
A  DINNER-PARTY 104 

CHAPTER  XVII 
BORROWING 110 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
AN  ACCIDENT 119 

CHAPTER  XIX 
A  PARAGRAPH 127 

CHAPTER  XX 
AN  EXPLANATION 133 

CHAPTER  XXI 
AN  EVENT 142 

CHAPTER  XXII 
NEGOTIATION    ,  152 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

PAOB 

PERPLEXITIES 161 

CHAPTER  XXIV 
A  MAN  OF  BUSINESS 171 

CHAPTER  XXV 
GRATITUDE 178 

CHAPTER  XXVI 
AN  ALE-HOUSE 183 

CHAPTER  XXVII 
A  DOWAGER 190 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 
AN  ATTEMPT 199 

CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE  FAMILY  MANSION 209 

CHAPTER  XXX 
NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP 218 

CHAPTER  XXXI 
A  SECRET  EXPEDITION »   233 

CHAPTER  XXXII 
A  MYSTERY 243 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 
A  DISCOVERY 254 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 
OUTSIDE  TRAVELLING 265 

CHAPTER  XXXV 
CONVERSATION  .  .,   276 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 

PAOK 

NEW  LIGHTS 2b7 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 
THE  CASTLE 294 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
INEXPERIENCE 302 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 
AT  FAULT 308 

CHAPTER  XL 
A  SCIENTIFIC  BARONET 314 

CHAPTER  XLI 
A  REMONSTRANCE 320 

CHAPTER  XLII 
ENCOURAGEMENT      327 

CHAPTER  XLIII 
INSIGHT 333 

CHAPTER  XLIV 
STK.ITAGEMS 341 

CHAPTER  XLV 
THE  FOREST 350 

CHAPTER  XLVI 
HOSPITALITY 355 

CHAPTER  XLVI  I 
EXPLANATIONS 3G2 

CHAPTER  XLVIII 
TIIE  EXAMINATION  .  ,    3C8 


ILLUSTRATIONS    TO    VOLUME    I 

HONEST  WOMAN,  YE'RE  IN  A  MIS- 
TAKE "  ....        Frontispiece 

HE    WAS   SURPRISED    TO  FIND   THEM 

SEATED  TOGETHER  "         .          to  face  page  284 


INTRODUCTION 


INTRODUCTION 

I T  has  been  generally  said  that  "  Sir  Andrew 
Wylie,"  was,  at  the  time  of  its  publication, 
the  most  popular  of  Gait's  works  in  England. 
Probably  this  popularity  never  meant  very 
much.  But  if  it  had  been  much  more  extensive 
than  it  was,  and  if  the  knowledge  of  the  hero 
of  Gait's  story  had  been  widespread,  we  might, 
I  think,  have  safely  indicated  Sir  Andrew 
Wylie  as  the  original  of  the  Scot  of  low 
comedy  and  popular  jest — in  fact,  the  Bang- 
wcnt-Saxpence  Scotchman. 

But  the  conception  is  likely  far  older  than 
Gait,  probably  at  least  as  old  as  the  Union  of 
the  crowns,  and  the  japes  that  were  made  then 
upon  the  penuriousness  of  the  crowd  of  hungry 
adventurers,  who  accompanied  King  James 
southward  from  Holy  rood  in  1603. 

Never,  however,  has   the  type  been   clothed 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

with  such  kindly  flesh  and  blood  as  in  the  ad- 
ventures of  the  quaint  "  auld-farrant "  boy,  the 
uncouth,  keen-witted  lad,  the  pushing,  provi- 
dent, kindly  man,  whose  progress  Gait  has  so 
sympathetically  described  in  Andrew  "  Whcelie." 
It  is  no  slight  merit  to  have  plumbed  the 
inwardness  of  such  a  conception.  It  is  a 
service  not  slight  to  have  interpreted  the  care- 
ful, determined  architect  of  a  man's  own 
fortunes,  who  never  lets  slip  a  chance,  who  ever 
takes  the  tide  of  affairs  at  the  flood,  who  leaps 
to  embrace  Fortune  when  she  stands  a-tiptoe ; 
and  yet  at  the  same  time  to  have  succeeded  in 
preserving  withal,  through  all  the  prosperity 
and  success,  the  simplicity  of  the  boy  who  kept 
the  sweetie-stall  at  the  fair,  and  who  carried 
his  grandmother's  Testament  to  the  kirk,  done 
up  in  a  white  napkin  with  a  piece  of  "  sidder- 
\vood. " 

In  some  ways  "  Sir  Andrew  Wylie  "  appears 
to  me  little  short  of  a  triumph.  In  others  it 
falls  immeasurably  below  the  steady  sweetness 
of  placid  dignity  which  characterises  "The 
Annals  of  the  Parish."  In  "  Sir  Andrew,"  the 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

author  has  tried  for  more.  lie  has  achieved 
less.  Indeed,  to  tell  the  truth,  plot,  counter- 
plot, and  the  involution  of  society  ai*e  not  in 
his  way.  The  fine  fury  evolved  out  of  the 
tangled  relations  of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of 
Sandyford  seems  to  me  like  the  mimicry  of 
puppets  strung  on  wires.  Gait  had  perhaps 
better  have  left  all  this  sort  of  thing  alone. 
The  Earl's  character  reflects  accurately  the 
contemporary  Byronic  conceptions  of  the  reck- 
less spendthrift  peer,  with  the  languid  manners 
and  the  excellent  heart.  The  quarrel  with  the 
Countess  also  has  Byronic  suggestions,  and 
much  of  the  fine  society  is  a  pale  reflection  of 
the  justly  forgotten  society  novels  of  the  earlier 
part  of  the  century.  These  things  are  wholly 
out  of  key  with  the  time  of  the  American  War 
to  which  the  Scottish  portions  belong. 

But  all  the  early  part  of  the  book  is  in  the 
author's  finest  vein.  The  description  of  the 
cottage  and  fittings  belonging  to  Martha 
Docken,  the  hero's  grandmother,  the  incidents 
of  the  hero's  schooling,  and  very  especially  the 
"  awful-like  thing  " — the  vengeance  taken  by 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

the  boys  for  the  death  of  Wheclie's  parrot,  are 
of  the  intimate  essence  of  Scotland  as  it  was  at 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

It  is  true  that  only  those  who  have  them- 
selves smarted  under  the  black-thonged  taws, 
who  have  climbed  the  braes  sparsely  wooded 
with  birch  and  hazel,  on  Saturday  afternoons 
free  and  golden,  who  have  sweated  over  the 
learning  of  "  fifty  psalms,"  and  suffered  for  their 
costivencss  with  "  Effectual  Calling  "  are  really 
capable  of  knowing  how  superexcellent  these 
early  chapters  of  "  Sir  Andrew  Wylie  "*  are. 

It  may  be  some  consolation  to  the  unfor- 
tunates who  were  born  under  other  and  less 
friendly  stars,  and  whose  experiences  have  not 
the  ragged  edge  of  enjoyment  which  comes  by 
contrast  with  bygone  stern  realities,  to  know 
that  the  impressions  of  life  which  Gait  gives  are 
entirely  faithful,  both  in  their  general  impression 
and  in  the  very  abundant  detail  with  which 
he  supports  them.  There  never  was  a  more 
veracious  chronicler  than  John  Gait,  or  one 
better  qualified  for  the  task. 

No  doubt  the   same   slee,  pawky,  well-con- 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

siclcrcd  straightforwardness,  which  the  keen 
and  not  over-indulgent  eyes  of  Thomas  Carlyle 
discerned  in  Gait,  found  its  way  into  the  ad- 
ventures of  "Sir  Andrew  Wylie."  His  hero 
early  makes  the  discovery  that  the  finest 
manners  are  composed  in  equal  parts  of  good 
feeling,  naturalness,  and  care  for  the  sensibilities 
of  others.  Pie  is  aware  that  to  attempt  to 
assimilate  himself' with  the  distinguished  society 
in  the  midst  of  which  he  moves  would  be  fatal 
to  his  plans  for  his  own  advancement.  So  he 
is  constrained  to  be  himself. 

For  instance,  in  an  admirable  passage  his 
master  is  conveying  to  him  the  news  that 
by  the  generosity  of  Lord  Sandy  ford,  Andrew 
is  assured  of  the  income  of  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  a  year  for  seven  years.  Mr. 
Vellum  thinks  that  the  time  is  a  suitable  one 
for  giving  a  little  advice  to  his  lucky  ap- 
prentice. 

"  I  hope,"  he  says,  "  that  you  will  set  in 
seriously  to  your  profession  and  throw  off  your 
ridiculous  manners  for  the  future."" 

"  That  would  be  a  doing  indeed  !  "  exclaimed 


xviii  INTRODUCTION 

our  hero,  "  when  you  are  just  at  this  precious 
moment  telling  me  that  they  have  already 
brought  me  in  seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 
a  year.11 

This  answer  puzzled  the  lawyer,  who  laughed 
as  he  said,  "  Well,  well,  take  your  own  way  ; 
but  it  is  no  longer  necessary  for  you  to  be  so 
penurious." 

"  That's  very  true,""  replied  Andrew,  "  and 
I'm  thankfu'  that  it  is  sae ;  but  if  I  dinna  save 
now,  where,  in  the  lang  run,  will  I  be  better  for 
my  lord's  bountiful  patronage  ?  No,  sir,  ye 
maun  juist  let  me  ride  my  ain  horse  wi1  my  ain 
hauding." 

It  is  quite  true  that  Andrew,  while  engaged 
in  engineering  his  fortune,  looks  on  everything 
with  a  clear  eye  to  his  own  advantage,  and 
plainly  declares  that  he  means  to  utilise  ail  his 
favour  with  the  great.  But  the  meanness,  if 
not  the  smallness,  of  such  a  declaration  is  largely 
atoned  for  by  the  transparent  simplicity  and 
sincerity  of  his  character — as  well  as  by  the  fact 
that  he  never  forgets  an  early  friend.  He 
rejoices  the  heart  of  his  grandmother,  and 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

finally  returns  full  of  his  original  and  unspoiled 
simplicity  to  his  own  village. 

Truth  to  tell,  we  occasionally  get  a  little 
tired  of  "Caliban"  in  the  gay  society  of  the 
day.  The  oaf  wears  his  oafdom  a  trifle  too 
obviously.  Also,  there  are  lapses  from  good 
taste  which  increase  as  the  political  and  other 
intrigues  thicken.  We  feel  instinctively  that 
the  author  is  not  at  home  here.  He  is  playing 
upon  an  instrument  of  which  he  does  not  know 
the  strings. 

We  get,  it  is  true,  the  continuous  impression 
of  the  forceful  man  of  affairs.  We  learn  that 
honest  and  homely  common  sense,  reinforced 
by  natural  shrewdness  and  some  lack  of  rose- 
water  scruples  as  to  meddling  with  tar,  is  an 
excellent  working  equipment  wherewith  to  face 
the  world  and  erect  the  edifice  of  fortune.  But 
there  is,  it  seems  to  me,  a  little  too  much  of 
the  "  Successful  Merchant "  about  this  part  of 
the  book,  somewhat  too  obvious  a  dwelling 
upon  the  fruits  of  monetary  and  social  success. 

The  reason  of  this  is  obvious  enough.  These 
were  the  sorts  of  success  which  during  part  of 


xx  INTRODUCTION 

his  life  Gait  himself  aspired  to ;  but  which  he 
did  not,  in  any  great  measure,  succeed  in 
achieving.  And  he  failed  largely  for  the  lack  of 
that  very  suppleness  in  speech  and  demeanour 
with  which  he  has  credited  "  Wheelie."  Gait 
was  ever  ready  to  put  forward  his  own  opinion, 
and  if  it  were  not  precisely  acceptable  to  his 
superiors,  he  was  just  as  ready  to  back  his 
judgment  by  sending  in  his  resignation.  He 
had  no  judicious  suppleness  of  neck.  He  could 
bide  the  buffet,  but  he  had  no  idea  of  "  jooking 
to  let  the  jaw  go  by." 

As  soon,  however,  as  the  "Sir  Andrew w 
leaves  London  behind,  with  all  the  quirks  and 
smirks  of  political  society,  and  sets  foot  again 
on  the  beloved  land,  we  have  our  own  rich, 
simple,  gracious  John  Gait. 

Each  unstudied  line  runs  rippling  in  the 
heart  of  every  Scottish  lad  who  has  ventured 
afield,  and  after  long  years  has  returned  to  find 
the  old  order  unchanged  indeed,  yet  strangely 
new  because  of  the  eyes  full  of  experience  that 
now  look  upon  the  scene.  "  All  things,  as  he 
approached  the  hamlet,  had  become  smaller  and 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

meaner ;  the  trees  appeared  stunted,  the  hedges 
more  rude  and  irregular,  and  the  distance 
between  each  well-known  object  greatly 
abridged.'1  The  houses  had  other  occupants, 
the  kenned  faces  are  few  and  far  between — 
only  the  river  sung  the  same  well-remembered 
tune  and  the  ash-trees  stood  out  against  the 
sky  in  the  summer  twilight  as  when  he  was  a 
boy. 

All  the  latter  part  of  "  Sir  Andrew  Wylie  "  is 
full  of  these  delightful  things.  Gait  seems 
exceedingly  glad  (as  no  doubt  he  was  in  reality) 
to  get  quit  of  London  and  his  romantic  plot. 
On  his  own  ground  he  is  like  a  "  China  pourie 
fu*  o'  cream."  Every  line  is  a  picture.  The 
kindly  nature  of  the  man  wins  a  hundred  ways 
out.  For  Sir  Bountiful,  coming  home  with  his 
long  purse  and  his  long  head — never  bestowing 
in  the  wrong  place,  never  grudging  in  the 
right,  is  precisely  the  figure  John  Gait  would 
have  liked  to  make  upon  his  own  return  from 
Canada. 

Alas,  that  in  a  sentence  of  his  own  we  should 
read  the  picture  of  what  his  actual  return  was 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

like.  "  There  are  but  two  situations  in  which 
the  adventurer,  returning  home,  can  duly 
appreciate  the  delightful  influences  of  such  an 
hour  of  holiness  and  beauty  and  rest. 

"The  one,  when  he  is  retreating  from  an 
unsuccessful  contest  with  fortune — when,  baffled 
and  mortified  by  the  effects  either  of  his 
integrity  or  of  his  friendlessness,  he  abandons 
the  struggle,  and  retires  to  his  native  shades  as 
to  the  embrace  of  a  parent,  to  be  lulled  by 
sounds  that  were  dear  to  his  childhood,  and 
which  he  fondly  hopes  will  appease  his  sorrows 
and  soothe  him  asleep  for  ever." 

*Yet  who  shall  say  that  John  Gait,  when  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  made  not  a  better 
end,  neglected  by  the  great  ones  of  the  earth 
whom  he  had  so  faithfully  served,  but  dignified 
by  his  own  honour  and  sincerity,  than  even  the 
wholly  successful  baronet  and  kindly  adven- 
turer whom,  in  this  book,  he  has  so  excellently 
pourtrayed. 

S.  R.  CROCKETT. 


SIR    ANDREW    WYLIE 


SIR   ANDREW    WYLIE 


CHAPTER   I 

The  Cottage. 

SlR  ANDREW  WYLIE,  like  the  generality  of 
great  geniuses,  was  born  and  bred  in  very  humble 
circumstances.  By  the  early  death  of  both  his 
parents  he  was  consigned  in  infancy  to  the  care 
of  his  maternal  grandmother,  Martha  Docken,  one 
of  those  clachan  carlins  who  keep  alive  among 
the  Scottish  peasantry  the  traditions  and  senti- 
ments which  constitute  so  much  of  the  national 
character.  This  old  woman  resided  in  the  hamlet 
of  Stoneyholm,  in  the  shire  of  Ayr.  Her  sole 
breadwinner  was  her  spinning-wheel ;  and  yet 
she  was  cheerfully  contented  with  her  lot,  for  it 
had  pleased  Heaven  to  bless  her  with  a  blithe 
spirit  and  a  religious  trust  in  the  goodness  of 
Providence.  The  furniture  of  her  cottage,  in  ad- 
dition to  Andrew's  cradle  (and  that  was  borrowed), 
consisted  of  one  venerable  elbow-chair,  with  a 
tall  perpendicular  back  —  curiously  carved, — a 


f 


2  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

family  relic  of  better  days,  enjoyed  by  her  own 
or  her  husband's  ancestors ;  two  buffet-stools, 
one  a  little  larger  than  the  other  ;  a  small 
oaken  claw-foot  table ;  her  wheel,  a  hand- 
reel,  a  kail-pot,  and  a  skillet,1  together  with 
a  scanty  providing  of  bedding,  and  a  chest 
that  wTas  at  once  coffer,  wardrope,  and  ambry.2 
Behind  the  house  she  had  a  patch  of  some 
five  or  six  falls  3  of  ground  for  a  garden,  which 
she  delved  and  planted  herself;  and  the  rent 
she  paid  for  the  whole  was  ten  shillings  per 
annum. 

The  gathering  of  this  sum,  after  she  received 
the  heavy  handful  of  Andrew,  a  weak  and  ailing 
baby,  required  no  little  care.  But,  instead  of  re- 
pining at  the  burden,  she  often  declared  to  the 
neighbours  that  he  was  "  great  company ;  and, 
though  at  times  a  wee  fashious,4  he's  an  auld- 
farand 5  bairn,  and  kent  a  raisin  frae  a  black 
clock  c  before  he  had  a  tooth  :  putting  the  taen 
in  his  mouth  wi'  a  smirk,  but  skreighing7  like 
desperation  at  the  sight  o'  the  ither."  During 
the  summer  of  the  first  year  after  Andrew  had 
been  brought  home  to  her,  she  was  generally 
seen  sitting  with  her  wheel,  basking  in  the  sun, 
at  the  gable  of  her  cottage,  with  her  grandson  at 

1  Skillet.     A  hand-bell. 

2  Ambry  (Almcric).     Cupboard. 

3  Fall.     A  measure  equal  nearly  to  an  English  rood. 

4  Fashions.     Troublesome. 

5  Au/d-farand.     Sagacious. 

c  Black  dock.     Black-beutlo.        7  Skreiyhing.     Screeching. 


her  side  in  her  biggest  stool,  turned  upside  down, 
amusing  himself  with  the  cat. 

Andrew  was  a  small  and  delicate  child  ;  but  he 
grew  apace,  and  every  day,  in  the  opinion  of  his 
grandmother,  improved  in  his  looks.  "  His  een," 
as  she  said  to  her  kimmers  l  while  she  dandled 
him  at  the  door  as  they  stopped  to  speak  to  her 
in  passing,  "  are  like  gowans  in  a  May  morning, 
and  his  laugh's  as  blithe  as  the  lilt  o'  the  linty." 

Philosophers,  in  these  expressions,  may  discover 
the  fond  anticipations  of  hopeful  affection  look- 
ing forward  to  a  prosperous  fortune  for  the  child  ; 
but  Andrew  for  a  long  time  showed  no  indication 
of  possessing  anything  in  common  with  the  talents 
that  are  usually  supposed  requisite  to  ensure  dis- 
tinction or  riches.  In  his  boyhood,  however, 
Martha  frequently  obsei-ved  "  That  he  was  a 
pawkie  laddie,  and  if  he  wasna  a  deacon  at  book 
lair,  he  kent  as  weel  as  the  maister  himsel'  how 
mony  blue  beans  it  taks  to  mak  five."  The 
"  maister  "  here  spoken  of  was  Dominie  Tarmy- 
hill,  one  of  those  meek  and  modest  novices  of 
the  Scottish  priesthood,  who,  never  happening  to 
meet  with  any  such  stroke  of  good  fortune  as  the 
lot  of  a  tutor  in  a  laird's  family,  wear  out  the 
even  tenor  of  their  blameless  days  in  the  little 
troubles  of  a  village  school.  At  the  time  when 
Andrew  was  placed  under  his  care,  the  master 
seemed  to  be  about  forty,  but  he  was  pi'obably 
two  or  three  years  younger.  He  was  pale  and 
J  Kimmers.  Neighbours,  gossips. 


4  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

thin,  and  under  the  middle  size,  and  stooped  a 
little,  as  if  his  head  had  been  set  on  somewhat 
awry.  It  proceeded,  however,  from  a  habit  which 
he  had  acquired,  in  consequence  of  being  short- 
sighted, and  accustomed  to  write  and  read  with 
his  ear  almost  touching  the  paper.  At  times  he 
would  erect  himself  even  into  something  like  an 
air  of  dignity,  and  change  his  lowly  and  diffident 
tone  into  the  voice  and  accent  of  an  earnest  and 
impassioned  eloquence. 

Everything  in  his  appearance  indicated  a 
moderate  spirit,  in  perfect  accordance  with  the 
mildness  of  his  manners,  and  his  few  and  humble 
acquirements  ;  but  there  was  an  apostolic  energy 
in  his  thoughts,  when  his  own  feelings  were 
roused,  or  when  he  addressed  himself  to  move 
those  of  others,  by  which  nature  at  times  showed 
how  willing  she  was,  if  fortune  had  so  pleased,  to 
make  him  a  pathetic  and  impressive  preacher. 
Whether  he  ever  felt  the  longings  of  ambition, 
or,  rather,  whether  lie  ever  repined  at  the  un- 
heeded and  unknown  estate  in  which  he  was 
left  to  pass  away,  —  like  a  sequestered  spring, 
whose  pure  and  gentle  course  is  only  seen  in 
the  meadows  by  a  little  narrow  edging  of  richer 
verdure, — could  never  be  discovered  in  the  still 
sobriety  of  his  placid  temper ;  but  if  all  other 
passions  were  hushed  in  his  quiet  bosom,  the 
kindly  disposition  which  lie  showed  towards  every 
living  thing  begat  in  the  minds  of  his  pupils  an 
affectionate  respect,  of  far  greater  power  in  the 


THE  COTTAGE  5 

little  state  and  commonwealth  of  his  school  than 
•would  have  been  yielded  to  the  authority  of 
more  arrogant  abilities,  backed  by  the  taws,  that 
dreaded  satrap  of  Scottish  didactic  discipline. 

In  his  dress,  the  master  was  as  remarkable  as 
in  his  mind  and  manners.  His  linen  was  always 
uncommonly  neat,  and  his  coat  and  vest  of  raven 
grey,  though  long  threadbare,  never  showed  a 
broken  thread  or  the  smallest  stationary  speck  of 
dust.  His  breeches,  of  olive  thickset,  were  no 
less  carefully  preserved  from  stains  ;  and  his  dark 
blue  worsted  gamashins,1  reaching  above  the  knees 
in  winter,  not  only  added  to  the  comfort  of  his  legs, 
but  protected  his  stockings.  Between  his  cottage 
and  the  church,  or  in  the  still  evenings  when  he 
was  seen  walking  solitary  along  the  unti-odden 
parts  of  the  neighbouring  moor,  he  wore  a  small 
cocked -hat,  and,  as  his  eyes  were  weak  and 
tender,  in  bright  weather  he  commonly  slackened 
the  loops,  and,  turning  the  point  round,  converted 
the  upright  gable  of  the  back  into  a  shade. 

If  the  master,  like  other  potentates,  had  a 
favourite,  it  was  certainly  our  hero,  at  whose 
droll  and  whimsical  remarks  he  was  sometimes 
observed  almost  to  smile.  For  Andrew  was  not 
long  at  school  till  he  showed  that  he  was,  at  least 
with  respect  to  his  sayings,  destined  to  attract 
notice.  Indeed,  on  the  very  first  day  when  his 
grandmother  herself  led  him  to  the  door  with  his 

1  Gnmiiitliinx.  Leg-protectors.  A  i/ameson,  as  described  in 
authorities  on  ancient  armour,  was  little  different  from  the  jack. 


6  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

A  B  board  in  his  hand,  he  got  a  name  that  he 
never  lost.  After  the  dismissal  of  the  school,  as 
he  was  playing  with  the  other  boys  on  the  high- 
road, a  carriage  and  four  horses,  with  outriders, 
happened  to  pass,  whirling  along  with  the  speed 
and  pride  of  nobility.  The  school-boys,  exhila- 
rated by  the  splendour  of  a  phenomenon  rare  in 
those  days  in  Stoneyholm,  shouted  with  gladness 
as  it  passed,  and  our  hero  animated  the  shout 
into  laughter  by  calling  out,  "  Weel  dune,  wee 
wheelie  :  the  muckle  ane  canna  catch  you." 
From  that  time  he  was  called  "  Wheelie  ; "  but, 
instead  of  being  offended  by  it,  as  boys  commonly 
are  by  their  nicknames,  he  bore  it  with  the 
greatest  good-humour,  and  afterwards,  when  he 
had  learned  to  write,  marked  his  books  and  copies 
with  "  Andrew  Wheelie,  his  book."  Even  the 
master  in  time  used  to  call  him  Wheelie,  and 
insensibly  fostered  his  taste  for  the  odd  and  droll 
by  sometimes  inviting  him  on  a  Saturday  after- 
noon to  partake  of  his  pale  and  economical  tea. 
Andrew,  who  was  naturally  shrewd  and  observant, 
perceiving  that  the  master  was  diverted  by  his 
humour,  exerted  himself  on  these  occasions,  by 
which  exercise  he  gradually  acquired  a  degree  of 
readiness  and  self-possession  in  conversation  un- 
usual among  Scottish  boys,  and  a  happy  vernacu- 
lar phraseology  which  he  retained  through  life, 
and,  with  those  who  had  a  true  relish  of  character, 
was  enjoyed  as  something  as  rare  and  original 
as  the  more  elegant  endowment  of  genius. 


CHAPTER    II 

The  Magpie. 

xVNDREW  was  "not  distinguished  among  his 
school-fellows  by  any  particular  predilection  for 
those  amusements  in  which  the  boys  of  a  country 
school  are  so  adventurous  ;  yet  he  was  always  a 
desired  member  of  their  nesting  parties  in  the 
spring  and  nutting  excursions  in  the  autumn  :  for 
his  drollery  and  good-humour  knit  their  hearts 
to  him,  and  if  he  seldom  strung  an  egg  of  his 
own  berrying,  and  absolutely,  at  all  times,  refused 
to  risk  his  neck  on  the  boughs  of  the  hazel,  lie 
still  brought  home  his  full  share  of  the  holiday 
plunder. 

On  an  occasion  when  a  pyet's l  nest  was  scaled, 
only  a  single  young  one  was  found  ;  and  it  was 
so  strong  and  cunning  that  it  almost  escaped  from 
the  grasp  of  Willy  Cunningham,  the  boy  who  was 
sent  up  the  tree.  Some  debate  ensued,  on  the 
division  of  the  day's  spoil,  as  to  who  should  get 
the  magpie.  Andrew  thought  that  it  ought  to 
be  given  to  Willv ;  but  Cunningham,  a  frank 
and  generous  fellow,  insisted  that  it  should  be 
1  Pyct'is.  Magpie's. 


8  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Wheelie's,  assigning  as  a  reason  that  Maggy  (as 
Andrew  had  called  it  on  the  spot)  "was  an  auld- 
farand  thing  like  himself  and  would  learn  mair 
Avi'  him  than  wi'  ony  other  laddie  at  the  school." 
Cunningham's  proposal  was  ratified  with  a  unani- 
mous shout ;  and,  certainly,  no  bird  was  ever 
more  appropriately  disposed  of,  for  Andrew  not 
only  taught  it  to  fetch  and  carry,  and  to  filch 
with  surprising  address,  but  to  speak  several  words 
with  the  most  diverting  distinctness.  Maggy  her- 
self seemed  to  be  right  well  pleased  with  her 
master ;  and,  according  to  tradition,  knew  every 
word  he  said,  with  the  discernment  of  a  fairy. 
When  his  companions,  in  the  winter  evenings, 
assembled  round  his  grandmother's  hearth,  Maggy 
placed  herself  between  his  legs  ;  and  as  often  as 
he  said  anything  that  tickled  their  young  fancies 
turned  up  her  cunning  eye,  and  then  jocundly 
chattered  with  her  bill,  as  if  she  participated  in 
their  laughter. 

The  natural  knavery  of  the  magpie  being  culti- 
vated by  education,  she  sometimes  took  it  into 
her  head  to  pilfer  a  little  on  her  own  account, 
and  among  others  who  suffered  by  her  depreda- 
tions was  the  master.  Between  the  school  hours 
he  always  opened  the  windows  to  ventilate  the 
room  ;  and  Maggy,  as  often  as  she  could,  availed 
herself  of  the  opportunity  to  steal  the  boys'  pens. 
It  happened,  however,  that  she  went  once  too 
often,  and  was  caught  in  the  fact,  with  a  new  pen 
in  her  neb.  The  master's  own  kindly  humour 


THE  MAGPIE  9 

induced  him  to  pardon  the  bird  ;  but  as  quarrels 
had  arisen  among  the  boys,  occasioned  by  the  loss 
of  their  pens,  one  accusing  the  other  of  the  theft, 
he  deemed  it  incumbent  on  him  to  rebuke  the 
owner  of  the  depredator.  Accordingly,  when 
the  school  assembled  in  the  afternoon,  he  pro- 
claimed silence ;  and,  taking  up  Maggy  from 
under  a  basket  where  he  had  imprisoned  her,  he 
addressed  the  boys  to  the  following  effect, — 

"  Wha'  amang  you  is  guilty  of  keeping  this 
misleart l  and  unprincipled  pyet,  which  is  in  the 
practice,  whenever  I  leave  the  windows  open  to 
air  the  school,  of  coming  in  and  stealing  the  pens 
from  off  the  desks — carrying  them  awa'  in  its  neb, 
without  ony  regard  for  the  consequence  ?  " 

"  It's  mine,"  cried  Andrew. 

"  Yours  ! "  said  the  master.  "  Then,  Wheelie, 
come  ye  here,  for  I  maun  point  out  to  you  the 
great  error  of  such  conduct.  It  is,  as  ye  maun 
surely  hae  often  heard,  an  auld  and  a  true  saying, 
that  '  They  wha  begin  wi'  stealing  needles  and 
prins,  may  end  wi'  horned  knout.' 2  I'm  no  saying, 
so  ye  needna  nicher,3  that  ever  this  pyet  will 
steal  either  horse  or  black  cattle ;  but  I  would 
exhort  you,  nevertheless,  to  put  it  away,  for  it  is 
a  wicked  bird,  and  may,  by  its  pranks,  entice  you 
to  do  evil  yoursel.  I  dinna,  however,  recommend 
that  ye  should  put  the  poor  creature  to  death  : — • 
that  would  be  a  cruelty,  and,  besides,  ye  ken  it's 

1  Mishart.      Unmannerly  ;  then  mischievous. 

-  Knout  (Nolt).     Ulnck  cattle.  j\'ic/tcr.     Snigger. 


10  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

but  a  feathered  fowl,  and  no  endowed  wi'  ony 
natural  understanding  of  good  and  evil.  It  kens 
nae  better,  like  the  other  beasts  that  perish,  than 
to  mak  its  living  in  a  dishonest  manner.  There- 
fore, I  counsel  you  just  to  take  it  to  the  woods, 
and  set  it  at  liberty,  where  it  may  fall  out  in  some 
other's  hand." 

To  this  Andrew  replied,  with  one  of  his  pawkie 
glances,  "  It's  but  the  first  fault  o'  poor  Maggy, 
master,  and  ye  shouldna  be  overly  severe,  for  she 
doesna  ken,  as  ye  say,  that  theeving's  a  sin  ;  so  I 
hope  ye'll  allow  me  to  gie  her  an  opportunity  to 
tak  up  the  steik l  in  her  stocking,  and  I'll  ad- 
monish her  weel  when  I  get  her  hame.  O  !  ye 
sinfu'  bird.  Are  ye  no  ashamed  of  yoursel,  to 
bring  such  disgrace  on  me  ?  " 

Maggy  instantly  testified  her  contrition  and 
her  thankfulness  for  the  advocacy  of  her  master 
by  hopping  from  the  relaxed  grasp  of  the  good- 
natured  dominie,  and  nestling  in  his  bosom. 

"  It's  really  a  droll  beast :  I  maun  alloo  that, 
and  I'll  forgie  you  for  this  ae  time,"  said  the 
master ;  "  but  I  would  advise  you  to  tie  a  string 
to  its  leg,  and  keep  it  in  the  house,  for  there's  no 
telling  what  it  may  commit." 

Andrew  having  thus  obtained  pardon  for  the 
magpie,  she  became  a  greater  favourite  than  ever 
with  the  boys,  and  produced  precisely  the  effects 
which  the  master  had  feared.  Nothing  portable 
at  open  window  was  safe  from  her  thievish  bill, 
i  SttiL  Stitch. 


THE  MAGPIE  11 

least  of  all  the  thread-papers  of  Miss  Mizy 
Cunningham,  the  maiden  aunt  of  the  boy  by 
whose  good-nature  our  hero  became  master  of 
the  bird.  Miss  Mizy  lived  in  the  mansion-house 
of  Craiglands,  close  to  the  village,  and  had  under 
her  dominion  Willy  and  his  sister  Mary  ;  for  their 
mother  was  dead,  and  the  laird,  their  father, 
troubled  himself  very  little  with  any  earthly 
thing.  He  was,  as  Andrew  described  him,  "a 
carle  that  daunered l  about  the  doors  wi'  his  hands 
in  his  pouches,  and  took  them  out  at  meal-time." 
As  for  Miss  Mizy  herself,  she  was  a  perfect 
paragon  of  gentility  and  precision.  However 
slovenly  the  grounds  about  the  house  were  kept, 
the  interior  of  the  mansion  was  always  in  the 
trimmest  order ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  the 
nun-like  purity  of  the  worthy  lady's  own  cambric- 
clad  person. 

It  happened  that,  by  the  death  of  a  relation, 
it  was  necessary  the  family  should  be  put  into 
mourning ;  and  Miss  Mizy,  for  this  purpose,  had 
bought  herself  a  suit  of  sable,  as  well  as  a  due 
portion  of  crape,  and  the  other  requisites  of 
funereal  sorrow.  She  was  sitting,  busy  with  her 
needle,  making  up  the  dress  at  the  parlour 
window,  which  was  open,  when  Andrew,  one 
afternoon,  with  his  pyet,  came  to  ask  Willy  to  go 
out  with  him.  Maggy  had  so  often  teased  Miss 
Mizy  by  pilfering  her  thread-papers  that  justice 
and  vengeance  were  sworn  against  her.  This  the 
1  Daunered.  Loafod. 


12  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIB 

boys  were  well  aware  of,  but  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  "  setting  up  the  birses  l  of  aunty." 
Maggy,  accordingly,  was  set  loose.  In  a  moment 
she  was  in  at  the  window,  and  had  seized  a  thread- 
case.  Miss  Mizy,  however,  before  the  pyet  could 
escape,  darted  at  her  like  a  cat  on  a  mouse  ;  and 
almost  in  the  same  instant  poor  Maggy,  with  her 
neck  twisted,  was  flung  out  with  such  fury  at 
Andrew  that  it  almost  knocked  him  down. 

This  was  a  dreadful  outrage  on  the  part  of  Miss 
Mizy,  and  the  whole  school  participated  in  the 
revenge  which  was  vowed  against  the  murderer 
of  Maggy.  Nor  was  ever  revenge  more  complete. 
Next  day,  the  principal  companions  of  Andrew 
provided  themselves  with  a  large  tub,  which  they 
filled  with  water  from  the  laird's  stable-yard  ;  and 
Andrew,  going  up  to  the  window  where  Miss 
Mizy  was  again  sitting  at  her  seam,  while  the 
other  conspirators  were  secretly  bringing  the  tub 
under  the  window,  cried,  "  Ye  auld  radons,2  what 
gart  you  kill  my  pyet  ?  Odd,  I'll  mak  you  rue  that. 
Nae  wonder  ye  ne'er  got  a  man,  ye  cankery  runt,3 
wi'  your  red  neb  and  your  tinkler  tongue." 

This  was  enough.  Miss  Mizy  rose  like  a  tem- 
pest ;  the  same  moment,  souse  came  the  unsavoury 
deluge  from  the  tub,  full  in  her  face,  to  the  total 
wreck  and  destruction  of  all  the  unfinished  bravery 
of  mournings  which  lay  scattered  around  ! 

1  JJirars.     Wrath.  "  Riulonn.     Wrinkled  woman. 

3  (.'anktry.  Cross-grained.  Runt  means  an  old  cow,  and  is 
used  contemptuously  of  an  old  woman. 


CHAPTER    III 

The  Tank. 

_L  HE  awfu'-like  thing/' — so  Miss  Mizy  ever 
afterwards  spoke  of  the  schoolboys'  conspiracy, 
— was  attended  with  the  most  important  conse- 
quences. The  first  result  was  a  formal  complaint 
to  Mr  Tannyhill,  to  wrhom  the  indignant  plaintiff 
stated  her  wrongs  with  an  eloquence  to  which 
we  cannot  do  justice,  demanding  the  immediate 
punishment  of  the  offenders.  The  master's  affec- 
tionate bosom  was  deeply  afflicted  with  the  ac- 
count that  Miss  Mizy  gave  of  "  the  deevilry," 
which,  in  her  narrative,  certainly  suffered  no 
diminution,  either  in  the  sins  of  the  perpetration, 
or  in  the  cunning  with  which  it  had  been  planned. 
In  his  way  back  to  the  school,  he  meditated  on 
the  sort  of  punishment  which  he  ought  to  inflict, 
for  hitherto  the  rod  had  been  unknown  in  his 
discipline  ;  and  he  came  to  the  strange  conclusion 
that,  as  the  end  of  all  punishment  ought  to  be  the 
reformation  of  the  delinquent,  he  would  oblige 
the  culprits  in  this  case  to  apply  with  more  than 
ordinary  assiduity  to  their  tasks,  and  require 
them,  for  the  remainder  of  the  summer,  to  attend 


14  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  school  two  additional  hours  a  day.  Some 
governors  might  have  thought  this  a  punishment 
to  themselves  ;  but  it  never  occurred  to  his  honest 
and  ingenuous  bosom  that  it  was  any  hardship. 
On  the  contrary,  he  felt  it  a  duty  which  he  was 
called  to  perform  in  order  to  correct  the  effects 
of  the  evil  spirit  which  had  been  so  audaciously 
manifested.  Accordingly,  when  the  boys  as- 
sembled next  day,  he  called  the  conspirators 
before  him,  and  made  them  mount  a  form  in 
presence  of  their  companions. 

"  I  told  you,"  said  he,  casting  his  eyes  towards 
our  hero,  "that  the  ill-deedy  pyet  would  bring 
you  into  baith  scaith  J  and  scorn ;  and  now  ye  see 
my  prophecy  has  come  to  pass,  for  there  ye  stand, 
five  a'  in  a  row,  like  so  many  evil-doers  as  ye  surely 
are,  that  I  ought  to  make  an  example  of,  by  let- 
ting you  fin'  the  weight  o'  my  hand.  But  it's 
no  my  way  to  chastise  with  stripes  on  the  body  : 
no,  unless  the  heart  is  made  to  feel,  a  bite  o'  the 
taws  in  the  loof,  or  on  the  back,  will  soon  heal. 
In  truth,  my  bairns,  I'm  wae  for  you ;  for  gin  ye 
gang  on  at  this  rate,  what's  to  become  of  you 
when  ye  enter  the  world  to  mak  your  bread  ? 
Wha,  Wheelie,  will  hae  ony  regard  for  you,  if  ye 
gie  yoursel  up  to  mischief?  Others  here  hae 
friens  that  may  guide  them,  but  ye  hae  only  your 
auld  feckless  2  grannie,  that  wi'  mickle  hard  labour 
has  ettled,3  with  a  blessed  constancy,  to  breec| 

1  Scaith.     Hurt.  2  Feckless.     Feeble. 

3  Ettled.     Endeavoured. 


THE  TASK  J5 

you  up  in  the  fear  o'  God.  O  man,  it  will  be  a 
sore  return  for  a'  her  love  and  kindness  if  ye 
break  her  heart  at  last ! — 1  speak  to  you  mair 
than  to  the  rest,  because  in  this  matter  ye  are  the 
most  to  blame,  and  stand  in  the  greatest  peril." 

"Weel,  weel,"  cried  our  hero,  half  sobbingly, 
half  angrily,  "  ye  need  nae  fash  l  me  ony  mair 
about  it,  but  tell  me  at  ance  what  ye're  ga'n  to 
do  wi'  me." 

The  master  was  so  astonished  at  this  interrup- 
tion that  he  stepped  back,  and  sat  down  in  his 
chair  for  some  time,  silent.  The  culprits  became 
all  pale,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  stood  aghast : 
so  daring  a  defiance  (as  it  seemed  to  them)  of  all 
authority,  could  not,  it  was  supposed,  but  be  fol- 
lowed by  some  tremendous  display  of  power. 

Mr  Tannyhill,  however,  read  Wylie's  character 
in  the  expression,  and  by  some  happy  or  bene- 
volent interpretation  of  his  petulance  took  the 
only  way  with  him  that  could  be  attended  with 
any  benefit.- — "  I  will  fash  you  nae  mair,"  said 
he,  addressing  him  emphatically,  "as  ye  seem  to 
be  contrite  for  your  fault ;  but,  in  order  to  try 
whether  ye  have  the  right  leaven  o'  repentance 
in  you,  I  will  task  you  to  a  task  that  will  do  you 
good  for  a'  the  remainder  of  your  days." — He 
then  ordered  him  to  get  the  first  fifty  psalms 
by  heart,  and  interdicted  him  from  all  play  and 
pastime  till  he  had  learned  them. 

From  that  moment  Andrew  applied  himself  to 
1  Fash.  Trouble  vexatiously. 


16  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

learn  the  psalms  with  a  perseverance  that  quite 
surprised  the  master,  who  had  hitherto  regarded 
him  but  as  a  droll  and  curious  creature.  The 
shortness  of  the  time  in  which  he  performed 
the  task  was  not,  however,  remarkable,  for  his 
memory  was  not  well  adapted  to  literature ;  but 
his  singular  abstraction  from  all  his  playfellows, 
and  the  earnestness  with  which  he  adhered  de- 
terminately  to  his  task,  astonished  every  one. 
During  the  intervals  of  the  school  hours,  he 
was  seen  sitting  by  himself  in  the  lee  of  a  head- 
stone in  the  churchyard,  muttering  verse  after 
verse  from  the  Psalm-book  which  he  held  in  his 
hand. 

While  he  was  in  this  situation,  Mary  Cun- 
ningham, the  sister  of  Willy,  happened  to  pass, 
and  seeing  him  said,  "  What  are  ye  doing  there, 
Wheelie  ?  " 

He  looked  up,  but,  without  answering  her 
question,  repeated  in  a  loud  monotonous  voice, — 

"  My  heart  inditing  is 
Good  matter  in  a  song." 

"  O  !  hae  ye  no  got  your  psalms  yet  ? "  ex- 
claimed Mary,  for  she  had  heard  from  her 
brother  of  his  particular  additional  punishment ; 
and,  going  up  close  to  him,  inquired  ho\v  many 
he  had  learned. 

"  I  can  say  ane-and-forty  a'  through,  Miss 
Marv,  without  missing  a  word." 

"What  a  lee   that  is,   Wheelie!"    said    Mary: 


THE  TASK  17 

"naebody  could  ever  say  so  many  psalms  straight 
through." 

"Will  ye  hearken  me?"  said  Andrew;  and 
she  took  the  book  which  he  at  the  same  time 
offered,  and,  leaning  over  the  headstone  behind 
him,  bade  him  begin. 

"  That  man  hath  perfect  blessedness 
Who  walketh  not  astray," 

he  immediately  repeated  in  one  unvaried  stream 
of  voice, 

"  But  dwelleth  in  the  scorner's  chair, 
And  stands  in  sinner's  way." 

"  O,  Wheelie,  Wheelie  !  ye  canna  say  the  first 
verse  o'  the  vera  first  psalm  :  a  pretty-like  story 
that  ye  hae  gotten  aiie-and-forty  by  heart ! " 
exclaimed  Mary. 

Reference  was,  in  consequence,  made  to  the 
book ;  and  after  some  further  parley,  Andrew 
resumed,  and  went  on  as  far  as  the  twelfth 
Psalm  without  missing  a  single  word,  to  the 
delighted  surprise  of  his  fair  auditor.  By  this 
time,  however,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 
go  to  school  and  Mary  return  home  ;  but,  before 
parting,  she  agreed  to  visit  him  again  at  the 
same  place  next  day  to  hear  the  remainder,  and 
she  kept  her  word.  Again  the  book  was  in 
her  hand,  and  leaning  over  the  tombstone,  witli 
Andrew  sitting  below,  she  listened  with  un- 
wearied pleasure  to  the  undeviating  and  inflex- 
ible continuance  of  his  monotonous  strain,  till 

VOL.  i.  11 


18  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

he  had  readied  the  thirty-first  Psalm,  when 
the  same  causes  that  occasioned  the  former  in- 
terruption again  obliged  them  to  separate,  after 
a  renewal  of  the  compact.  On  the  third  day, 
Andrew  completed  not  only  the  forty-one,  but 
two  more  that  he  had  learned  in  the  mean- 
time. Mary  confessed  her  admiration  of  his 
wonderful  genius,  and  from  thenceforth,  till  he 
h;id  completed  his  task,  she  was  his  regular 
visitor. 

Out  of  this  circumstance  a  greater  degree  of 
intimacy  arose  between  them  than  is  usual 
among  boys  and  girls  of  their  age.  She  admired 
him  as  a  prodigy  of  talent,  and  he  was  pleased 
when  he  met  her,  on  account  of  the  interest 
she  had  taken  in  his  task.  From  the  attack 
on  her  aunt,  however,  he  had  been  prohibited 
from  approaching  "  The  Place "  (as  the  Craig- 
land  mansion-house  was  called  by  the  villagers) ; 
and  as  she  was  educated  by  Miss  Mizy  herself, 
preparatory  to  being  in  due  time  sent  to  an 
Edinburgh  boarding-school,  they  had  few  oppor- 
tunities of  meeting.  But  on  Sunday  he  always 
took  care  to  stand  in  the  path  by  which  the 
laird's  family  crossed  the  churchyard,  and  a  smile 
was  as  regularly  exchanged  between  them  in 
passing.  As  often,  also,  as  the  minister  read 
out  to  be  sung  any  one  of  the  fifty  psalms, 
Mary  would  peep  over  the  front  of  the  laird's 
loft  to  where  Andrew  sat  beside  his  grand- 
mother in  the  area  below  ;  and  on  these  occa- 


THE  TASK  19 

sions  she  never  missed  his  eye,  which  seemed 
to  be  instinctively  turned  up  in  expectation  of 
meeting  hers.  In  this  way,  the  germ  of  a 
mutual  affection  was  implanted,  before  either 
was  awakened  by  nature  to  the  sense  of  love 
and  beauty,  or  informed  by  the  world  of  the 
disparity  of  their  condition.  They  were  them- 
selves unconscious  of  the  tie  with  which  sim- 
plicity had  innocently  linked  them  together ; 
and  being  as  yet  .both  free  from  the  impulses 
of  passion,  they  felt  not  the  impediments  which 
birth  and  fortune  had  placed  between  them. 

The  Craigland  family  was  one  of  the  most 
ancient  in  the  county.  The  estate  was  large ; 
but  by  the  indolence  of  the  laird  it  was  much 
neglected,  and  the  rental  was  in  consequence 
small.  The  woods,  however,  were  valuable, 
and  the  old  tacks,  or  leases,  were  drawing 
to  a  close  ;  so  that,  while  in  a  state  of 
comparative  penury,  it  seemed  probable  that 
both  Cunningham  and  his  sister  would  .inherit 
a  very  ample  patrimony.  Of  this  their  aunt, 
Miss  Mizy,  was  fully  sensible,  and  frequently 
complained  to  her  brother  that  he  should  allow 
his  son,  with  such  an  inheritance  in  view,  to 
be  brought  up  among  the  children  of  the 
tenants,  But  her  complaints  were  long  unavail- 
ing. The  laird  had  been  educated  in  the  same 
school  with  the  fathers  of  these  children,  and 
he  could  discover  nothing  in  his  sister's  remon- 
strances to  make  him  wish  to  sec  his  son  a 


20  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

finer  gentleman  than  himself.  "  The  awfu'-like 
thing/'  however,  had  a  more  impressive  effect 
than  her  lectures.  It  was  an  exploit  of  mischief 
far  surpassing  all  the  easy  pranks  of  his  soft 
youth ;  and  upon  the  minister,  at  Miss  Mizy's 
instigation,  representing  to  him  the  disgrace 
and  dishonour  that  would  ensue  to  the  family 
if  the  heir  \vas  permitted  to  associate  long  with 
such  unmeet  playmates  as  the  boys  of  Mr 
Tannyhill's  school,  he  consented  that  Willy 
should  be  sent  from  home,  and  placed  at  an 
academy  suitable  to  his  rank  and  prospects. 
This  was  done  accordingly,  and,  like  other 
boys  that  drop  awray  from  among  their  school- 
fellows, Cunningham  was  soon  forgotten. 


CHAPTER    IV 

The  Fair. 

A.FTER  Cunningham  was  removed  from  Mr 
Tannyhill's  school,  a  considerable  change  took 
place  among  our  hero's  playmates.  The  frater- 
nity to  which  the  two  boys  belonged  was,  in 
fact,  in  the  course  of  that  summer,  broken  up, 
and,  for  some  time,  Andrew  was  without  any 
particular  companion.  These  temporary  inter- 
missions of  friendship  are,  however,  common  to 
men  as  well  as  to  boys  ;  but  the  cares  of  our 
riper  years  make  us  less  sensible  of  the  blank  left 
by  the  removal  of  a  neighbour  than  the  loss  we 
suffered  when  a  school-fellow  was  taken  away. 

The  nickname  of  Wheelie,  in  consequence  of 
this  change,  was  gradually  forgotten,  or,  rather, 
ceased  to  be  any  longer  in  use ;  while  the  strip- 
ling himself  seemed  daily  in  quest  of  something 
that  he  could  not  find,  either  on  the  moorlands 
or  along  the  hedge-rows  and  the  belts  of  plant- 
ing that  skirted  the  hills  and  farms  of  the  Craig- 
lands.  He  was  (as  his  grandmother  said)  for 
some  time  "  like  a  tynt 1  creature ; "  and,  for 

1  Tynt.      Lost. 

21 


22  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

lack  of  other  company,  often  on  the  road-side 
fell  into  discourse  with  travelling  tinklers,  blue- 
gowns,  or  old  soldiers,  who  had  acquired  a  suffi- 
cient stock  of  wounds  and  scars  to  set  them  up 
in  beggary.  Poor  Andrew,  however,  had  nothing 
to  give  them  ;  nevertheless,  it  was  remarked  that 
they  always  left  him  seemingly  better  pleased 
than  they  ever  quitted  the  laird's  yett,1  even 
when  Miss  Mizy,  after  the  term-day,  allowed  an 
extra  neaveful  to  their  wonted  weekly  almous.2 

In  the  evenings,  Andrew  had  recourse  to  the 
firesides  of  the  gash  and  knacky  carles  and  carlins  3 
of  the  village.  Still,  even  in  their  queerest 
stories  he  found  a  deficiency,  for  he  had  no  friend 
of  his  own  age  to  share  his  remarks  afterwards. 
About  Hallowe'en,  however,  this  want  was  sup- 
plied. At  the  distance  of  a  mile  from  Stoney- 
holm  lay  the  small  estate  of  Woodside,  a  mailing,4 
as  it  was  called,  with  a  house  somewhat  better 
than  the  common  farm-steadings.  The  proprietor 
happened  to  die,  and  the  lands  were  rented  by 
his  heirs  to  a  neighbouring  farmer.  The  house 
and  garden,  being  in  consequence  to  let,  were 
taken  by  a  Mrs  Pierston,  the  widow  of  a  Glas- 
gow merchant,  who  at  the  Martinmas  term  took 
possession. 

This  matron  had  but  one   child,  a  fine  smart 

1  Yctt.     Gate. 

2  N*arcful  .  .  .  almous.     Handful  .  .  .  alms. 

3  Gash  .  .   .  carlins.     Intelligent  and  shrewd  old  men  and 
women. 

4  Mailing.     A  farm  that  is  rented. 


THE  FAIR  23 

rattling  boy  of  the  name  of  Charles,  who  was 
sent  to  the  master's  school,  where  he  and  Andrew 
soon  became  inseparable.  The  distance  of  his 
mother's  house  from  the  village  occasioned  him,, 
as  is  usual  in  such  circumstances,  to  bring  his 
dinner  in  his  pocket  at  first ;  he  was  afterwards 
allowed  to  dine  with  Andrew — an  arrangement 
of  some  advantage  to  old  Martha — ,  for  Mrs 
Pierston  was  in  good  circumstances,  and  indul- 
gent to  her  only. son.  Thus  commenced  one  of 
those  attachments  which  arc  formed  but  at 
school,  and  are  generally  supposed  to  weather 
the  changes  of  fortune,  and  the  blasts  of  adver- 
sity, better  than  the  friendships  of  more  con- 
siderate years. 

The  buoyancy  of  Pierston's  spirits  gave  him  a 
seeming  ascendency  over  Wylie ;  but  it  was  soon 
observed  by  the  neighbours  that,  in  reality, 
Andrew  was  the  master,  and  that,  by  submitting 
to  the  pranks  and  whims  of  Charles  in  small 
affairs,  he  uniformly  obtained  the  management 
of  things  of  greater  moment,  if  such  language 
may  be  applied  to  the  disinterested  concerns  of 
schoolboys.  Pierston  had  also,  as  it  might  have 
been  supposed  from  its  early  effects,  another 
advantage  over  his  rustic  companion.  He  had 
spent  his  boyhood  in  Glasgow,  and  had  been 
several  years  at  the  grammar-school  of  that  city 
before  his  mother  removed  to  the  Woodside 
house.  He  was  in  consequence,  for  his  time, 
pretty  well  accomplished  in  many  tricks.  He 


24  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

stood  much  less  in  awe  of  the  municipal  digni- 
taries of  the  neighbouring  towns ;  and,  accord- 
ingly, at  the  different  fairs,  to  which  lie  constantly 
induced  Andrew  to  accompany  him,  he  not  only 
kept  his  part  better  among  the  town  boys,  but 
even  went  further  than  most  of  them  in  the 
frolics  customary  on  such  occasions.  But  although 
it  was  said  of  Charles  that  he  was  a  perfect  devil's 
limb,  he  had  a  generous  warmth  of  heart  and  a 
lively  good-humour  that  bespoke  a  favourable  in- 
terpretation to  his  worst  and  wildest  stratagems. 
Many  an  old  apple-woman  at  the  fairs,  however, 
on  seeing  the  gowk  and  the  titling1  approach, 
(as  the  two  boys  were  called),  watched  their 
tempting  piles  of  toys  and  delectables  with  gleg  2 
een,  and  staff*  grasped  to  repel  some  pawkie  ag- 
gression ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  boys  were 
always  merrily  welcomed,  for  Charles  had  plenty 
of  pocket-money,  and  spent  it  freely. 

If,  in  those  excursions  to  the  fairs,  Pierston 
found  fun  and  frolic,  Andrew  reaped  some  ex- 
perience of  the  world.  He  soon  saw  that  the 
money  his  companion  spent  was  sufficient  to  set 
up  any  old  woman  with  a  stand  ;  and  the  thought 
occurred  to  him  that  if  he  could  get  Charles,  on 
the  next  fair-day,  to  give  his  money  to  Janet 
Pirn,  a  sly  and  di-oll  old  lame  widow,  with  whose 
tales  and  ballads  they  had  been  often  enter- 
tained during  the  winter,  they  might  be  able  to 

i  Gowk  .  .   .   titling.      Cuckoo,   and  its   attendant  hedge- 
sparrow.  2  Glcij.     Keen. 


THE  FAIR  25 

pay  Janet  a  shilling  for  her  trouble,  and  make  a 
great  deal  of  money  by  the  speculation.  The 
idea  was  most  delightful ;  but  Charles  justly 
dreaded  that  if  the  existence  of  the  copartnery 
should  become  known  to  the  other  boys,  espe- 
cially to  those  belonging  to  the  towns,  the  con- 
sequences would  be  ruinous,  as  Janet  would 
assuredly  be  plundered  without  mercy.  This 
consideration,  however,  was  soon  got  over  by 
Andrew  saying  thai  if  they  ke^t  their  own 
secret  it  could  never  be  known. 

Terms  accordingly  were  proposed  to  Janet, 
who  readily  acceded  to  them ;  and  when  the 
Kilwinning  fair-day  came  round,  she  made  her 
appearance  at  the  corner  of  the  bridge,  seated 
in  an  arm-chair,  dressed  in  her  red  cloak  and 
black  Sunday  bonnet,  with  a  table  before  her, 
covered  with  a  cloth  secretly  borrowed  by  Charles 
from  his  mother's  napery-chest,  and  temptingly 
adorned  with  a  competent  stock  of  the  requisite 
allurements.  The  boys  themselves  also  had  ac- 
companied Janet  into  Irvine  to  buy  them,  and 
they  assisted  her  to  set  them  out  to  the  best 
advantage.  The  muscalmonds  were  declared  to 
be  as  big  as  doos' 1  eggs ;  the  sweeties  and 
corianders  were  of  all  sizes  and  colours,  inter- 
mingled with  the  smallest  and  fairest  Mistress 
Nanse  ;  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  was  laid  forth  with 
all  its  best  veins  particularly  turned  towards  the 
view  ;  parliament-cakes,  and  gingerbread  watches, 

1  Dooa'.     Pill-cons'. 


26  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

richly  gilded  ;  piles  of  raisins  and  of  figs,  gems  of 
sugar-candy,  and  amber  lumps  of  barley-sugar, 
constituted  this  garden  of  Hesperides,  round 
which  a  formidable  array  of  idolatries  of  all 
descriptions,  from  ogres  with  a  currant  in  the 
forehead  instead  of  an  eye,  to  game-cocks  with 
bits  of  cinnamon  for  spurs,  were  exhibited  to  the 
greatest  advantage.  Such  another  stand  was  not 
in  the  whole  fair.  Janet  had  a  great  run ;  and 
the  two  boys,  each  with  a  stick  in  his  hand,  stood 
sentinels  at  the  ends  of  the  table.  All  went 
on  for  some  time  in  the  most  prosperous  way. 
Andrew  counted  the  gains  that  were  flowing  in, 
and  Charles  enticed  customers  by  the  bravado 
of  his  eulogium  on  the  articles  for  sale.  But 
this  display  of  goods,  and  of  the  interest  which 
the  gowk  and  the  titling  had  in  the  concern, 
excited  the  envy  and  jealousy  of  their  less  suc- 
cessful competitors  ;  and  when,  about  noon,  Janet 
and  another  carlin  adjourned  to  one  of  the  public- 
houses  to  get  a  bottle  of  ale  to  their  dinner  of 
bread  and  cheese,  the  secret  was  divulged  that 
she  was  but  an  agent  and  a  hireling.  We  shall 
not  attempt  to  describe  the  speed  with  which 
the  story  spread,  or  the  indignation  of  all  the 
rival  sweetie-wives.  The  juvenile  customers,  who 
had  dealt  with  Janet  merely  because  her  sweets 
were  the  best  at  the  fair,  thought  themselves 
cheated,  and  opened  an  incessant  fire  of  the  small- 
shot  of  pips,  while  a  tremendous  battery  of  twenty 
mouths,  every  now  and  then,  roared  from  the 


THE  FAIR  27 

adjacent  stands.  Andrew  advised  Janet  to  pack 
up  her  things  quietly ;  but  Charles  insisted  she 
should  not  budge  a  step  :  they  had  as  good  a 
right  to  sell  things  at  the  fair  as  any  other  body, 
and  he  was  prepared  to  defend  it.  The  attack 
continued ;  the  crowd  gathered ;  Charles  lost 
his  temper,  and  struck  a  great  heavy  lumbering 
country  lout,  that  was  laughing  at  him,  over  the 
fingers.  The  fellow  retaliated.  Some  of  the 
spectators  took  part  with  Charles.  A  battle- 
royal  ensued,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  table 
was  overset,  and  all  its  treasures  trodden  in  the 
mire,  amidst  the  acclamations  and  the  clapping 
of  hands  of  all  the  rival  dealers. 

The  two  boys  seeing  their  golden  dream  thus 
dissipated,  retired  from  the  scene,  and  left  those 
who  had  been  involved  in  their  cause  to  fight 
the  battle  out.  But  they  did  not  retire  to  be- 
wail their  misfortune  :  they  were  more  heroic. 
Charles  saw,  and  indeed  felt,  that  he  was  no 
match  for  the  country  lad  who  had  thrashed 
him  ;  but  his  ire  did  not  burn  the  less  fiercely. 
On  the  contrary,  he  went  with  Andrew  in 
quest  of  some  of  their  school-fellows,  to  assist 
in  revenging  the  wrong  which  he  had  himself 
provoked. 


CHAPTER   V 

Common-Sense. 

WHEN  the  two  boys  had  walked  up  the 
street  and  passed  through  the  gate  of  the 
masons'  lodge  into  the  churchyard  without 
meeting  with  any  of  their  companions,  Andrew 
halted  and  said,  "  Od,  Charlie,  I'm  thinking  we 
had  as  weel  bide  as  we  are :  yon's  a  horned 
stot,  in  comparison  to  us,  wha  hae  but  banes 
o'  gristle  ;  and  a  solid  chap  o'  his  nieve  would 
be  as  deadly  as  Coomy  the  smith's  forehammer. 
Od,  I'm  no  for  meddling  ony  mair  wi'  the 
muckle  brute." 

Pierston  reprobated  the  pusillanimity  of  this 
prudent  sentiment,  and  became  more  and  more 
resolute  for  revenge. 

"Vera  weel/'  cried  Wylie :  "tak  your  ain 
gait,  and  get  your  een  steekit  and  your  nose 
smash'd,  and  see  what  ye'll  mak  o't.  A  pretty 
pirlit 1  ye'll  be  :  me  leading  you  hame,  blind  and 
bleeding,  wi'  a  napkin  or  an  auld  stocking  tied 
round  your  head.  Eh  !  what  a  skreighing  at 
the  sight  o'  you,  Charlie,  there  will  be ! — your 

1  Pirlit.     An  expression  for  a  contemptible  figure. 

28 


COMMON-SENSE  29 

mother  running  out  and  in,  clapping  her  hands 
for  her  murder't  bairn." 

"  I  dinna  care  though  he  were  to  kill  me  ! " 
exclaimed  Charles ;  "if  I  had  but  my  will  o' 
him  beforehand." 

"Ay,  that's  sense,"  said  Andrew.  "Gin  ye 
could  but  get  your  will  o'  him  first ;  but  the 
fear  is  that  he  may  get  the  will  o'  us  ; — and 
what's  to  be  done  then  ?  " 

Pierston  was  a  little  puzzled  with  this,  and, 
hesitating,  said,  after  a  moment's  reflection, — 
"  We  might  watch  for  him  and  stane  him  frae 
behind  the  dyke  when  he's  gaun  hame  in  the 
gloaming." 

"  It's  a  cowardly  thing  to  waylay  a  defence- 
less man.  Od,  Charlie,  I  thought  ye  had  mair 
spunk  ! "  replied  Andrew,  in  perfect  sincerity  ; 
but  still  only  anxious  to  pacify  the  resentment 
of  his  friend.  "  Touch  my  honour  touch  my 
life,"  was  a  sentiment  that  Pierston  had  learned 
among  the  youths  of  his  own  kidney  at  the 
grammar-school  of  Glasgow ;  and  the  implied 
unworthiness  of  taking  his  enemy  unprepared 
affected  him  in  his  most  vulnerable  feelings. 

"  What  am  I  do,  Andrew  ?  It's  a  dreadfu' 
thing  to  gi'e  up  my  satisfaction.  Look  at  my 
lug  whar  the  brute  struck  me  :  it's  birzed l 
black  and  blue, — deevil's  in  him  ;  but  I'll  gar 
him  rue't." 

Andrew  examined  the  wounded  part,  and  de- 
i  Birzed.  Bruisc<i. 


30  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

clared  it  was  just  a  flea-bite.  "  It's  a  wee  red," 
said  he,  "  and  before  half-an-hour's  by  ye'll 
ne'er  fin't.  Man,  Charlie,  it's  bairnly  to  mak 
sic  a  wark  for  a  bit  tig  on  the  haffet.1  A'  ye 
gottin's  no  the  tae  half  o'  what  ye  gied, — for 
ye' re  a  deevil  at  a  paik,  when  your  birses  are 
up — I  would  iia  come  in  your  reverence  2  then 
for  something." 

Pierston  was  flattered  by  the  compliment  to 
his  strength  and  valour ;  his  pride  also  was 
touched  at  the  idea  of  exaggerating  the  effects 
of  the  blow  he  had  received,  which  Andrew, 
in  fact,  adroitly  undervalued  ;  and  he  said,  "  As 
for  the  thump  on  the  side  o'  the  head,  I  hae 
thole't  twenty  times  mair  before  noo ;  and  I 
think  I  would  be  content  if  I  was  sure  he  had 
gotten  as  muckle  frae  me." 

"Ye  need  hae  na  doubt  o'  that,  Charlie,  for 
he  got  twa  for  ane.  Ye  ken,  ye  were  the  first 
aggressor  :  ye  struck  him  first  wi'  the  stick, 
and  he  gied  you  but  a  gentle  slaik  wi's  paw,— 
I  dinna  think  he  was  very  wud  for  a'  that, — 
and  then  ye  birl'd  at  him.  Od  !  but  ye're  a 
terrier  when  in  a  passion,  Charlie  ;  and  when 
a's  considered,  I  think  we  ought  to  be  thankfu' 
that  we  came  off  wi'  hale  banes,  and  nae  blood 
spilt." 

"  But  the  stan'  was  coupit,  and  a'  our  mer- 
chandise lost  :  wha's  to  mak  up  that  ?  "  replied 

1  Bit  tin  on  the.  liaffct.     Light  touch  on  the  side  of  the  head. 

2  Reverence,     Power. 


COMMON-SENSE  3 1 

Pierston,  fairly  at  a  loss  for  a  sufficient  reason 
to  nurse  his  rage  any  longer. 

"  I  hae  had  my  thoughts  o'  that  too,"  said 
our  hero ;  "  and  I  jealouse  that  it  was  nae  a 
right  thing  o'  us  to  be  marrows l  in  ony  sic 
trade  wi'  cripple  Janet.  It  was  interloping  wi' 
the  auld  sweetie-wives, — ye  saw  what  a  stoor 
raise  amang  them  when  the  truth  came  out ; 
there  were  nae  ither  callants  at  the  fair  keep- 
ing stands." 

"  That's  weel  frae  you,  Andrew,"  said  Charles, 
"  for  it  was  a'  your  own  doing.  I  didiia  care  a 
bawbee  for  the  stand,  and  a'  the  profit." 

"I'll  mak  nae  denial,"  was  Wylie's  discreet 
answer,  "  for  I  kent  nae  better ;  but  I  hae  got 
insight  by  the  upshot,  and  I  wish  the  whole 
story  were  weel  hidden,  for  gin  that  lassie  Mary 
Cunningham  hears  that  we  were  keeping  a  stand, 
like  twa  sweetie-wives  at  the  fair,  she'll  herry 2 
my  seven  senses  wi'  her  jeering.  A'  ye  hae  gotten 
will  be  naething  to  what  I  maun  thole  :  so  let's 
keep  a  calm  sough  and  close  tongues." 

Charles  was  now  not  only  fully  persuaded  of 
the  propriety  of  stifling  his  revenge,  but  also 
convinced  ihat  they  had  not  been  engaged  in 
any  very  honourable  adventure  ;  and  said,  with 
some  degree  of  mortification  and  chagrin,  "  I 
hope  Janet  has  ta'cn  care  o'  the  table-cloth,  for 
sic  a  rippit3  there  will  be  about  it  if  it's  lost  !" 

1  Alarrov's.     Partners.  -  Hcrry.     Rob. 

3  Ilippit.     Hubbub. 


32  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Andrew,  perceiving  that  he  had  gained  a  com- 
plete victory,  proposed  that  they  should  return 
to  cripple  Janet ;  and  they  found  her  replacing 
the  stand  with  such  of  the  articles  as  she  had 
been  able  to  pick  up,  selling  the  damaged  at 
great  bargains  to  the  children,  who,  hovering 
round  her,  deplored  the  wreck  of  such  deli- 
cious commodities.  The  moment,  however,  that 
the  gowk  and  the  titling  were  again  seen 
on  the  spot,  the  auld  wives  around  immediately 
broke  out  on  them  a  second  time  ;  and  such 
had  been  the  effect  of  Andrew's  representation 
of  the  unworthy  nature  of  their  copartnery  that 
Charles  was  quite  daunted  by  their  banter,  and 
slunk  away.  Our  hero,  however,  was  none  dis- 
mayed ;  but  with  great  address  turned  the  scale  in 
their  favour  by  telling  Janet  that  he  and  Charles 
gave  up  to  her  all  the  merchandise  and  profit, 
on  condition  that  she  took  good  care  of  the 
table-cloth.  Never  was  generosity  better  timed  : 
the  gift  was  a  little  fortune  to  old  Janet,  and 
she  so  loudly  expressed  her  thanks  and  grati- 
tude that  the  other  women,  to  whom  the  boys 
had  been  good  customers  on  other  occasions, 
joined  instantly  in  praising  them  to  the  skies, 
and  long  before  the  evening  the  gowk  and  the 
titling  were  in  as  high  favour  as  ever. 

But  the  consequences  of  this  adventure  did 
not  stop  here.  It  reached  the  ears  of  Mrs 
Pierston,  who  had,  indeed,  previously  begun  to 
suspect  that  the  school  at  Stoneyholm  was  not 


COMMON-SENSE  33 

exactly  the  fittest  place  for  a  boy  of  her  son's 
prospects ;  and  Charles  soon  after  was  removed, 
and  sent  to  complete  his  education  in  one  of 
the  neighbouring  towns,  where  he  continued 
till  he  was  summoned  to  London  by  an  uncle, 
a  great  city  merchant.  A  second  time  thus 
Andrew  was  left  to  himself;  but  the  friendship 
between  him  and  Charles  was  not  entirely 
broken  by  their  separation.  For,  at  the  vacation 
and  holidays,  Pierston  regularly  visited  his  mother 
at  the  Woodside  House,  and  his  intimacy  with 
Andrew  was  on  those  occasions  as  uniformly  re- 
newed. The  difference  of  the  spheres  in  which 
they  moved  was,  however,  gradually  operating 
a  change  on  the  characters  of  both.  Charles, 
destined  for  the  mercantile  profession,  and  amidst 
genteel  companions,  educated  in  the  hopes  and 
prospects  of  opulence,  was  eveiy  year  developing 
more  and  more  into  a  spruce  and  tonish  gallant ; 
while  Andrew,  bred  up  in  rustic  poverty,  and 
without  any  definite  views  as  to  his  future  life, 
settled  into  a  little  gash  carlie,  remarkable 
chiefly  for  a  straightforward  simplicity.  His 
drollery  and  good  -  humour,  however,  rendered 
him  a  familiar  and  prodigious  favourite  with 
everybody  ;  and  although  few  in  the  parish 
were,  perhaps,  more  destitute  of  any  visible 
means  of  rising  in  the  world,  a  confident  belief 
was  entertained  among  all  who  knew  him  that 
he  was  destined  to  become  a  rich  man  : — a  great 
vol..  i.  c 


34, 

one  none  ever  ventured  to  anticipate ;  nothing, 
indeed,  could  be  more  opposite  to  any  idea  of 
personal  grandeur  than  his  small,  short,  round- 
headed  figure,  smooth  apple-cheeks,  and  little 
twinkling  eyes. 


CHAPTER   VI 

The  Consultation. 

.A.T  the  period  of  which  we  are  now  treating, 
neither  the  commerce  nor  the  manufactures  of 
Scotland  had  risen  to  that  height  which  has  since 
not  only  wrought  such  changes  in  the  appearance 
of  the  country,  but  affected  the  very  depths  and 
principles  of  the  national  character.  The  youth 
having  few  means  of  advancement,  and  but  a 
narrow  field  of  enterprise  at  home,  sought  their 
fortunes  abroad ;  and  good  schooling  (as  it  was 
called)  constituted  the  common  patrimony  of  the 
Scottish  adventurer.  As  Andrew  was  rendered 
unfit  by  his  feeble  frame  for  the  drudgery  of  a 
farmer,  his  grandmother,  actuated  in  her  humble 
sphere  by  the  national  spirit,  resolved  to  spare  no 
cost  on  his  education.  But  whether  to  lyeed  him 
for  a  divine,  a  doctor,  or  a  lawyer,  Avas  a  point 
not  easily  determined.  It  presented  even  more 
difficulties  to  her  imagination  than  any  appre- 
hension which  she  entertained  of  procuring  the 
means ;  for,  with  respect  to  the  latter,  her  trust 
in  the  care  of  Providence  was  unbounded,  and 
she  had  heard  of  many  gospel  ministers,  come  of 

35 


36  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

no  better  stock,  who  bravely  upheld  the  banner 
of  the  testimony,  even  unto  the  death.  She  had 
heard  also  of  doctors  who  had  returned  nabobs 
from  India  that  began  as  shop-boys  to  druggists ; 
and  of  lawyers  on  the  freehold-roll  of  the  county 
that  had  commenced  their  career  by  running 
errands  for  town-officers. 

As  she  could  not  determine  for  herself,  she 
resolved  to  consult  the  master.  Accordingly,  one 
afternoon,  when  the  school  had  been  dismissed, 
she  went  to  his  house,  and  found  him  at  his  tea, 
listening,  with  a  faint  smile  that  played  among 
his  features  like  sunshine  through  the  hedgerow, 
to  some  little  comic  occurrence  in  the  village 
which  Andrew  was  describing,  while  sitting  at 
his  side  as  a  companion,  but  not  at  that  time  a 
participating  guest. 

The  small  room  where  they  were  seated  was  in 
the  back  part  of  the  school-house.  Behind  the 
door,  in  a  recess,  stood  a  humble  bed,  covered 
with  a  patched  and  quilted  coverlet,  which  at 
night  was  carefully  removed,  being  only  used  for 
show  by  day.  Fronting  the  entrance,  a  mahogany 
scrutoire  was  placed,  somewhat  of  an  incongruous 
degree  of  splendour  compared  with  the  general 
style  of  the  apartment,  and  over  it  hung  a  Dutch 
looking-glass,  in  a  gaudy  frame  of  flowers  and 
gilding,  a  considerable  margin  of  the  plate  being 
adorned  with  birds  and  foliage  painted  on  the 
surface.  The  top  of  the  scrutoire,  under  the 
glass,  was  covered  with  a  damask  towel,  and 


THE  CONSULTATION  37 

occupied  by  several  volumes  neatly  bound,  a  tall 
wine-goblet  with  a  white  spiral  line  up  the  stalk, 
filled  with  flowers,  and  a  mahogany  tea-chest  with 
an  inlaid  likeness  of  a  clam-shell  in  front.  The 
window  was  between  the  scrutoire  and  the  wall 
facing  the  bed.  It  consisted  of  four  panes,  and 
looked  into  a  small  garden,  rank  with  apple-ringy,1 
and  other  fragrant  herbs  and  stately  flowers.  The 
sole  of  the  window  was  occupied  with  a  flower- 
pot containing  a  geranium,  round  which  lay  scat- 
tered several  books,  a  shaving-box,  a  razor-case, 
and  a  hone.  Opposite  to  the  window,  and  near 
the  door,  stood  an  eight-day  clock,  with  a  black 
bust  between  the  volutes  on  the  top,  bearing 
the  well-known  inscription  of  the  cloud-capped 
towers,  indicating  that  the  image  was  meant  for 
Shakespeare.  Between  the  clock  and  the  corner, 
Andrew  and  the  master  were  sitting  when  his 
grandmother  entered,  and  she  was  in  consequence 
requested  to  take  a  seat  in  an  angular  elbow-chair, 
which  occupied  the  corner  opposite  to  them. 

"I'm  come,"  said  Martha,  "to  hae  a  crack  wi' 
you  about  this  get.2  It's  time,  1100,  that  he  were 
thinking  o'  doing  something  for  hirnsel'.  He's 
weel  through  his  fifteen,  and  I  would  fain  hae  an 
inkling  gin  lie  be  o'  ony  capacity." 

Mr  Tannyhill,  foreseeing  that  the  conversation 
would  turn  on  particulars  which  might  be  as  well 
discussed  in  Andrew's  absence,  suo-jrested  that  it 

'  OO 

would  be  proper  for  him  to  retire. 

1  Apple-Ting  y.     Southernwood.  "  Gel.     Bairn. 


38  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  Ay,"  said  his  grandmother  :  "  tak  the  door 
on  your  back,  and  play  yoursel'  till  me  and  the 
maister  hae  come  to  an  understanding." 

Our  hero  on  this  hint  immediately  withdrew  ; 
but,  although  he  took  the  door  on  his  back  by 
shutting  it  after  him,  he  placed  himself  close  to 
it  in  the  kitchen  from  which  the  room  entered, 
and  overheard  all  that  passed  within. 

"  Poor  laddie,"  resumed  Martha,  when  he  had 
retired,  "  he's  no  strong ;  hard  wark's  no  for 
him,  and  saft's  ill  to  get.  Noo,  Mr  Tannyhill, 
what's  your  conceit  ?  I  doubt  he  has  nae  got 
the  cast  o'  grace  needful  to  a  gospel-minister. 
James  Sinney,  the  droggest  in  Kilwinning,  would 
tak  him  for  a  word  o'  my  mouth,  if  ye  thought 
he's  o'  a  physical  turn ;  and  John  Gledd,  the 
messenger,  wha  was  sib  to  his  mother,  ance 
promised  as  muckle  ;  but  I  canna  say  I  hae  ony 
broo  o'  the  law,  for  it's  a  deadly  distemper  amang 
friens;  and  Andra,  though  baith  pawkie  and  slec, 
is  a  warm-hearted  creature,  and  would  be  o'er 
scrimp  in  the  severities  of  justice,  especially  in 
pleas  amang  kith  and  kin." 

The  master  replied  that,  of  all  the  learned 
professions,  he  really  thought  Wheelie  was  best 
disposed  by  nature  for  the  law  ;  "for  although," 
said  he,  "the  craw  thinks  its  aiii  bird  the  whitest, 
ye're  no,  Martha,  sae  misled  by  your  affection  as 
to  imagine  that  Andrew's  qualified  to  make  a 
soun'  frae  the  pulpit ;  and  even  if  lie  were,  noo- 
a-davs  a'  things  o'  religion  hae  settled  into  a 


THE  CONSULTATION  39 

method  that  gies  ihe  patronless  preacher  but 
liltle  chance  o'  a  kirk.  Wi'  your  oye's  l  ordinal- 
looks,  I  fear,  though  lie  were  to  grow  as  learned 
as  Matthew  Henry  himself  he  would  hae  but  a 
cauld  coal  to  blaw  at." 

"  For  the  bairn's  looks,  Mr  Tannyhill,  I  think 
they're  weel  eneugh.  There  may  be  brawer ; 
but  a  hantle  are  far  waur,"  said  Martha,  a  little 
tartly  ;  "  howsomever,  if  it's  your  notion  that  he 
wouldna  make  a  sincere  divine,  I  would  rather 
see  him  gaun  about  the  farms  wi'  Thomas  Steek, 
the  tailor,  clouting  at  saxpence  a  day,  than  walk- 
ing the  dyke-sides  between  hope  and  starvation, 
wi'  a  thin  white  face,  and  his  forefinger  atween 
the  leaves  o'  some  auld  kittle  Latin  bake." 

"  Your  description,  o'  a  luckless  probationer  is 
ower  true,"  said  the  master  with  a  sigh.  "  It's  a 
state  without  pleasure  to  the  mail  himsel',  and  a 
sorrow  to  a'  that  see  him.  I  would  be  wae  to 
think  that  Andrew's  blithe  spirit  was  quenched 
wi'  the  tear  of  mortification ;  and  therefore, 
Martha,  if  ye  would  follow  my  advice,  a'  I  can 
say  is,  Let  him  choose  between  Mr  Sinney  and 
John  Gledd." 

"  I  jealouse,  sir,"  replied  Maltha,  "that  he  has 
but  a  sma'  stomach  for  the  drog  trade,  and  I  fancy 
he'll  tak  to  the  law." 

"In  that,"  said  Mr  Tannyhill,  "I  doubt  not, 
wi'  a  portion  of  perseverance,  he  may  grow  a 
topping  character.  I  hae  seen  at  Edinburgh, 
1  Oi/t'ts.  (irumlchikl's. 


40 

when  I  was  at  the  College,  advocates  proudly 
before  the  Courts  that  could  reckon  no  hi  "-her 

c5 

parentage.  He  has  only  to  join  care  to  industry, 
and  I  have  no  doubt,  by  a  decent  use  o'  the  means 
that  Providence  may  place  in  his  power,  he'll 
reap  both  riches  and  honour." 

While  Martha  was  thus  drawing  out,  in  the 
pursuit  of  her  object,  the  latent  and  slumbering 
mind  of  the  master,  our  hero  was  listening  with  a 
throbbing  heart.  At  the  mention  of  the  ministry, 
a  dim  vision  floated  before  him,  in  which  the  fair 
form  of  Mary  Cunningham  was  blended  with  the 
interior  of  a  church,  and  the  remembrance  of 
fifty  psalms  It  was,  however,  but  the  passion- 
less association  of  feelings  and  recollections  that 
dissolved  away  and  were  lost  in  disagreeable 
images  of  the  green  and  yellow  gallipots,  sores 
and  salves,  odious  stuffs  and  bottled  reptiles,  with 
which  the  name  of  James  Sinney,  the  druggist, 
was  associated.  The  chances,  by  prudence  and 
industry,  of  attaining  riches  and  honours  through 
the  legal  profession  determined  his  choice  ;  and 
he  put  an  end  to  the  consultation  by  opening  the 
door,  and  looking  in,  at  the  same  time  saying, 
"  I'm  for  John  Gledd's,  grannie." 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  Outfit. 

J_  HERE  are  few  things  in  the  \vorlcl  more  won- 
derful to  philosophy  than  the  means  by  which 
the  honest  poor  of  Scotland  are  enabled,  from 
day  to  day,  with  light  hearts,  strong  arms,  and 
brave  spirits,  to  face  the  ills  of  life  with  what 
they  call  "sma'  families" — that  is,  at  least  half- 
a-dozen  children.  But  their  general  condition 
is  comparative  opulence  to  the  lot  of  old  Martha 
Docken ;  and  yet  she  was  one  of  a  class  that 
would  have  spurned  the  gifts  of  charity — oi' 
that  class  to  whom  the  country  still  points  with 
pride,  and,  we  hope,  long  will,  in  spite  of  all  the 
improvements  in  agriculture,  manufactures,  and 
commerce. 

As  soon  as  it  was  determined  that  Andrew 
should  be  sent  to  John  Gledd's,  the  writer,  to 
learn  the  law,  various  important  considerations 
required  to  be  well  weighed  by  his  grandmother. 
In  the  first  place,  John  lived  in  Kihviiming,  a 
town  three  miles  at  least  from  Stoneyholm ;  and, 
in  the  second,  according  to  custom,  it  was  re- 
quisite that  Andrew,  as  a  lawyer's  clerk,  should 
41 


42  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

be  a  little  better  dressed  than  formerly, — although 
Martha  assured  him  that  the  ragged  coat  o'  the 
callant  was  ne'er  a  mot  in  the  man's  marriage. 

In  a  long  prospective  contemplation  of  the 
era  which  had  now  arrived,  Martha  had  carefully 
preserved  the  Sunday  clothes  of  his  father ;  but, 
in  order  to  fit  him,  they  required  considerable 
alterations,  and  a  consultation  was  held  with 
Thomas  Steek,  the  tailor,  on  the  subject,  the 
result  of  which  was  that  on  a  day  set  for  the 
purpose  Thomas,  with  his  laddie,  Clipping  Jock, 
arrived  betimes  at  Martha's  cottage-door,  with  all 
the  requisite  implements  of  their  profession.  The 
tailor  himself,  being  a  lamiter,  with  a  drawn-up 
leg,  and  using  a  stilt,  carried  the  shears  in  his 
left  hand  ;  and  Jock,  a  little  hump-backed  crea- 
ture, brought  the  goose  behind  him,  bearing  the 
law-board  over  his  shoulder.  By  their  art  and 
contrivance,  Andrew  was  properly  equipped  to 
take  his  place  at  John  Gledd's  desk — John  having, 
on  the  first  application,  immediately  agreed  to 
lighten  Martha's  hand  of  the  boy  ;  for  however 
strict  in  the  harsh  offices  of  caption  and  horning,1 
he  had  the  friendly  spirit  of  the  poor  man  among 
the  poor,  and  was  ever  ready,  to  the  utmost 
stretch  of  his  narrow  means,  to  help  a  neighbour 
in  need. 

The  day  fixed  for  our  hero  to  enter  the  world 
by  the  clachan  of  Kilwinning  was  the  first  Mon- 
day of  May  On  the  Sunday  before,  he  made 
1  Caption  and  hominy.  Note  A. 


THE   OUTFIT  43 

his  appearance  at  church  in  his  new  garb.  As 
the  young  bird  lingers  about  the  nest,  and  is 
timid  and  reluctant  to  trust  its  untried  wing, 
the  fancy  of  the  schoolboy,  when  he  is  on  the 
point  of  first  leaving  home,  hovers  amidst  the 
scenes  of  his  childhood,  and  wistfully  looks  back 
on  a  thousand  little  objects  which,  till  then,  he 
had  never  thought  were  dear  to  him.  In  the 
calm  still  evening  of  that  Sabbath,  this  sentiment 
pervaded  the  bosom  of  our  youthful  adventurer, 
insomuch  that,  when  the  master  invited  him,  as 
a  testimony  of  his  regard,  to  take  tea  with  him, 
he  declined  it,  saying,  "  I  am  vera  mickle  obliged, 
sir;  but  I'm  thinking  o'  just  taking  a  dauner 
round  the  Craigland  parks." 

The  good  and  simple  Tannyhill  was  so  deeply 
sensible  of  the  feeling  which  dictated  this  refusal 
that  he  said  nothing,  but  followed  Andrew  with 
his  eye,  as  he  saw  him  moving  away  towards  the 
fields.  "That  laddie,"  said  he  to  one  of  the 
neighbours  who  happened  at  the  time  to  come 
up,  "has  mair  in  him  than  we  gie  him  credit 
for.  I  would  na  be  surprised  to  hear  of  him 
being  something  yet." 

Andrew,  after  parting  from  the  master,  strayed 
into  the  Craigland  plantations,  and  kept  his 
course  along  a  patli  that  ran  beneath  the  south 
side  of  the  garden  wall  attached  to  the  man- 
sion-house, until  he  had  entered  the  ancient 
policy l  of  the  domain.  Everything  about  the 
1  1'ulici/.  rieasure-fjTouuds  round  tli 


44  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Craiglands  betokened  the  disposition  of  the  laird. 
The  house  was  large,  and  built  at  different  times. 
About  eighty  years  before,  an  addition  had 'been 
made,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  convert  the  end 
of  the  original  mansion,  or  fortalice,  into  the 
principal  front ;  by  which  a  fine  old  avenue  of 
plane-trees  was  thrown,  as  it  were,  aside,  and 
another  approach  was  formed  towards  the  new 
front,  which  looked  into  what,  in  the  improver's 
time,  had  been  an  enclosed  parterre,  or  flower- 
garden  —  a  low  hewn-stone  wall,  with  square 
columns  at  intervals,  surrounding  the  same ;  in 
the  front  of  which,  and  at  each  side,  was  a  gate- 
way, formed  by  stately  square  pillars,  crowned 
with  sculptured  pine-apples.  The  plan  and  archi- 
tecture, though  in  a  formal,  were  certainly  in 
something  of  a  grand,  style,  if  not  in  a  good  taste ; 
but  all  was  in  a  state  of  ruinous  neglect :  the  par- 
terre was  overgrown  with  weeds ;  vast  bunches 
of  nettles  and  docks  filled  the  corners,  and  rose 
above  the  enclosing  wall ;  the  pine-apple  heads  of 
several  of  the  pillars  lay  among  them  as  they 
had  fallen ;  and  washing-tubs,  and  coals,  and 
peats  were  piled  against  the  house,  under  the 
very  windows  of  the  dining-room.  But  if  the 
mansion  and  grounds  were  neglected,  the  woods 
suffered  little  from  sharing  the  same  carelessness. 
The  trees,  left  to  themselves,  had  grown  into 
every  possible  shape  of  picturesque  luxuriance ; 
and,  fortunately  for  both  the  admirer  of  the 
spot  <1nd  the  hehv,  the  laird  would  not  suffer 


THE  OUTFIT  45 

them  to  be  touched,  and,  in  consequence,  the 
Craigland  groves  were  among  the  most  beautiful 
in  the  West  of  Scotland. 

As  Andrew  sauntered  alone  into  the  checkered 
gloom  of  those  old  avenues,  the  hopes  of  his  young 
imagination  in  some  degree  partook  of  the  sober 
colouring  that  was  settling  on  the  distant  vista  of 
the  landscape  beyond,  as  the  evening  twilight 
gradually  faded.  He  was  still,  it  is  true,  a  mere 
boy;  but  he  was  entering  on  that  epoch  of  life 
when  all  the  affectionate  feelings  of  the  bosom 
begin  to  concentrate  into  passion,  and  for  some 
time,  by  the  gradual  removal  of  his  school-fellows, 
he  had  been,  in  a  manner,  left  alone  in  the  village 
— a  situation  calculated  to  nourish  his  sensibility 
for  the  beauties  of  nature. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  avenue  ran  a  small  stream, 
over  which  in  the  gayer  days  of  the  Craiglands  a 
wooden  bridge  had  been  thrown  ;  but  it  was  long 
destroyed,  and  a  plank  supplied  its  place.  On 
this  plank  Andrew  seated  himself,  and  for  some 
time,  in  idleness,  continued  turning  the  pebbles 
with  his  toe  in  the  channel.  Mary  Cunningham, 
who  was  out  walking  with  one  of  the  maids, 
happened,  in  returning  home,  to  see  him ;  and 
stepping  softly  up  behind  him,  covered  his  eyes 
suddenly  with  her  hands. 

"  It's  you,  Mary  !  "  cried  he  instinctively  ;  and 
the  lively  girl,  unclosing  his  eyes,  began  to  laugh 
and  jeer  at  his  new  appearance.  "You  may  tak 


46  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

your  fill  o't  the  night,  Mary,"  said  he,  "  but  it 
winna  be  lang  ye'll  hae't  in  your  power." 

"  Eh  ! "  cried  Mary  seriously,  "  whar  are  ye 
gaun  ?  " 

"  I'm  boun'  the  morn's  morning  to  John  Gledd's, 
in  Kilwinning." 

"  And  what  are  ye  to  do  there,  Wheelie  ?  " 

"I'm  thinking  o'  making  a  forton." 

By  this  time  the  maid  had  joined  them,  and 
she  interposed  laughingly,  saying,  "  And  when 
he's  a  grand  man,  he'll  come  and  marry  you,  Miss 
Mary." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  sic  a  while  ! "  said  Mary. 

What  more  might  have  ensued,  we  cannot  pre- 
sume to  conjecture ;  but  the  conversation  was 
interrupted  by  the  shrill  voice  of  Miss  Mizy, 
heard  echoing  from  within  the  garden,  "  Mary 
Cunningham,  whar  are  ye  ?  Come  into  the  house, 
and  tak  your  book  immediately:"  at  the  sound 
of  which  Mary  skipped  away,  followed  by  the 
maid ;  and  Andrew,  rising  from  the  bridge,  re- 
turned home  to  his  grandmother's  cottage. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Changes. 

ON  after  this  little  incident,  a  lease  of  one  of 
the  Craigland  farms  fell  in ;  and  the  augmenta- 
tion which  the  laird  received  in  the  rent  at  the 
renewal  fully  justified  his  sister,  Miss  Mizy,  to 
urge  him  to  send  Mary,  as  he  had  originally 
designed,  to  an  Edinburgh  boarding-school,  to 
learn  genteel  manners,  and  to  sew  satin-pieces 
and  play  on  the  spinnet :  the  indispensable  accom- 
plishments at  that  period  of  an  Ayrshire  laird's 
daughter ;  and  we  do  not  know  that  any  essential 
improvement  has  been  made  in  the  order  of  their 
education  since. 

By  this  arrangement,  Andrew,  during  his  ap- 
prenticeship with  the  messenger,  saw  Mary  no 
more.  Meanwhile,  his  assiduity  at  the  desk  was 
quite  exemplary,  as  well  as  the  determination 
with  which  he  was  actuated  to  acquire  a  know- 
ledge of  his  profession — if  knowledge  it  might  be 
called  of  the  law,  which  consisted  merely  in  being 
able  to  copy  with  fidelity  that  circuitous  and  per- 
plexing verbosity  which  is  professedly  intended 
to  be  clearer  and  plainer  than  the  language  of 


48  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

common-sense.  He  was  also  distinguished  from 
all  the  lads  of  his  own  age  by  the  preference 
which  he  gave  to  the  knacky  conversation  of 
old  and  original  characters.  It  signified  not  to 
him  whether  the  parties  with  whom  he  enjoyed 
his  leisure  were  deemed  douce l  or  daft :  it  was 
enough  that  their  talk  was  cast  in  queer  phrases, 
and  their  minds  ran  among  the  odds  and  ends  of 
things  By  this  peculiar  humour,  he  was  pre- 
served in  his  clachan  simplicity ;  while  he  made, 
as  he  often  afterwards  said  himself,  "  his  memory, 
like  a  wisdom-pock,  a  fouth 2  of  auld  knick- 
knacketies — clues  of  experience  and  shapings  of 
matter  that  might  serve  to  clout  the  rents  in  the 
knees  and  elbows  o'  straits  and  difficulties." 

An  event  happened,  however,  which  changed 
the  prospects  of  his  professional  career.  John 
Gledd  had  a  shock  of  the  palsy,  and  was  obliged 
to  give  up  his  business,  by  which  Andrew  was 
thrown  on  the  world.  He  had  begun  to  acquire 
some  confidence  in  himself,  however ;  and  this 
event  did  not  depress  him  so  much  on  his  own 
account  as  on  that  of  his  master.  He  had  by 
this  time  also  some  suspicion  that  Kilwinning 
was  not  exactly  the  best  place  for  becoming  that 
grand  man  he  was  determined  to  be.  The  illness 
of  John  Gledd,  therefore,  decided  his  fate  and 
fortune.  At  fn-st  it  Avas  proposed  that,  as  he  had 
got  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer,  he  should  try  to 
obtain  a  place  in  the  clerk's  chamber  of  Irvine  or 
1  JJoucc.  Sensible.  -  A  fovth.  An  tibuntlance. 


CHANGES  49 

Ayr,  from  which,  like  others  of  the  legal  fry,  he 
might  in  time  migrate  to  Edinburgh  for  a  season, 
and  then  come  back  to  Kil winning,  and  endea- 
vour to  gather  custom  among  the  clients  of  his 
old  master.  But,  after  much  deliberation,  it  was 
agreed  between  him  and  his  grandmother  that  he 
should  "  try  his  luck  in  London,  that  great  city." 
This  apparently  singular  and  bold  resolution 
occurred  to  Martha  from  the  great  good  fortune 
that  had  attended  a  niece  of  her  own  who  was 
settled  there.  The  young  woman  had  gone  to 
the  metropolis  as  a  servant  with  the  Eaglesham 
family,  and  had  the  good  luck  to  attract  the  affec- 
tions of  Mr  Ipsey,  an  old  solicitor  of  high  reputa- 
tion and  great  connections,  who,  finding  he  could 
not  obtain  her  love  on  easier  terms,  had  the  good 
sense  to  make  her  his  wife.  Between  Martha 
and  her  kinswoman  no  literary  correspondence 
subsisted  ;  but  from  time  to  time  they  heard  of 
each  other,  and  the  old  woman  rejoiced  at  the 
prosperity  of  her  niece,  but  without  thinking,  till 
John  Gledd's  misfortune,  that  it  would  ever  be 
of  any  avail  to  her  grandson.  That  event,  how- 
ever, directed  her  eyes  towards  Mrs  Ipsey,  and  it 
was  determined  to  solicit  her  influence  with  her 
husband  on  our  hero's  behalf.  A  letter  was 
accordingly  written  by  Andrew  to  that  effect ; 
and,  by  return  of  the  post,  a  kind  and  conside- 
rate reply  was  received,  honourable  alike  to 
Mrs  Ipsey's  spirit  as  a  Scotchwoman  and  to  her 
husband's  generosity  as  an  Englishman.  She 

VOL.   I.  D 


50  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

informed  Martha  that  Mr  Ipsey  had  retired  from 
business  several  years ;  but  that  his  successor, 
Mr  Vellum,  would  receive  Andrew  whenever  it 
was  convenient  for  him  to  come  to  London ;  and 
that,  as  his  outfit  would  probably  cost  more  than 
her  aunt  could  well  afford,  she  enclosed  a  bill  for 
twenty  pounds, — not  as  a  gift,  but  as  a  loan  to  be 
repaid  by  Andrew  whenever  he  could  do  so. 

The  receipt  of  this  friendly  and  considerate 
letter  was  an  auspicious  omen  which  every  one 
in  Stoneyholm  regarded  as  a  sure  token  of  some- 
thing grand  in  the  future  fortunes  of  Andrew  ; 
and  to  none  did  it  give  more  pleasure  than  to  the 
master,  whom  our  hero  himself  was  the  first  to 
inform  of  his  great  good  luck. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Wheelie,"  said  the  kind 
and  good  Tannyhill ;  "  but  neither  in  this,  nor  in 
anything  else,  be  either  overly  lifted  up  or  cast 
down.  Take  some  honest  and  honourable  pur- 
pose in  your  mind,  and  make  all  your  endeavours 
bend  to  the  attainment  thereof ;  by  that  ye'll  not 
only  get  forward  in  life,  but  your  steps  will  be 
steady  and  respected,  though  your  passaging  be 
slow.  But,  my  bairn,  set  not  your  thought  on 
riches  as  an  end,  but  only  as  a  means  for  some- 
thing more  solid  to  yoursel',  and  pleasing  in  the 
sight  of  Him,  who,  in  this  favour,  has  given  you 
erlis  l  of  the  servitude  He  claims  from  you — the 
which  is  to  be  kindly  and  generous,  but  neither 
to  be  inconsiderate  nor  lavish." 

1  Erlis.     Aries.     Note  B. 


CHANGES  5 1 

Andrew  was  fully  sensible  of  the  force  of  this 
advice  ;  and,  perhaps,  he  was  the  more  impressed 
with  its  practicable  wisdom,  inasmuch  as  it  was 
in  unison  with  the  natural  and  habitual  course 
of  his  own  reflections.  For,  although  he  was  not 
a  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  to  reason  in  his  boyhood 
about  anything  so  well  as  that  philosopher's 
meditations  on  the  cause  which  occasioned  the 
fall  of  an  apple,  he  was  nevertheless,  in  his  way, 
endowed  with  a  peculiar  genius,  and  had  formed, 
even  at  this  early  period,  a  scheme  of  life  and 
conduct  in  which  he  was  resolved  to  persevere. 


CHAPTER    IX 

Preparations. 

AN  some  respects,  the  parish  of  Stoneyholm 
was,  at  the  period  of  Andrew's  departure,  not 
so  fortunate  in  its  pastor  as  its  neighbour  Dai- 
mailing,  of  which  the  meek  and  pious  Mr  Bal- 
whidder  was  then  the  incumbent ;  nor  could  it 
even  be  compared  with  the  well-watered  vine- 
yard of  Garnock,  where  the  much-celebrated 
Doctor  Zaehariah  Pringle  had,  some  years  before, 
been  appointed  helper  and  successor.  For  the 
Reverend  Doctor  Dozadeal  was  a  town-bred  clergy- 
man ;  and,  having  been  a  tutor  in  the  family 
of  an  Edinburgh  advocate,  had  of  course  more 
genteel  manners  and  less  warmth  of  heart  than 
is  usually  found  among  the  genuine  presbyters 
of  the  Scottish  Church.  In  his  address  he  was 
dry  and  grave,  and  measured  out  his  sentences 
as  apothegms  of  impressive  wisdom.  He  pre- 
ferred the  formal  dinners  of  the  heritors  to  the 
sick-beds  of  the  lowlier  members  of  his  flock. 
This  was  natural  ;  but  lie  also,  it  was  alleged, 
studied,  a  little  too  earnestly,  the  advancement 
of  his  interests  in  this  world,  and  it  was  under- 


PREPARATIONS  58 

stood  that  he  had  only  accepted  the  cure  of 
the  parish  in  the  hope,  and  under  the  promise, 
of  one  more  suited  to  his  habits.  He  took  no 
pains  to  ingratiate  himself  with  his  parishioners  : 
he  knew  few  of  them  by  name  ;  and  they  seldom 
troubled  him  with  their  little  cares  and  anxieties, 
the  tempering  of  which  by  advice  and  consolation 
is  perhaps  the  best,  as  it  is  the  most  amiable, 
of  all  a  pastor's  duties.  His  deportment  and 
manners  were,  however,  spotless  and  irreproach- 
able ;  and  the  habitual  respect  with  which  the 
Scottish  peasantry  regard  their  ministers  secured 
him  all  the  external  deference  that  is  commonly 
paid  by  the  people  to  a  character  which  religion, 
tradition,  and  patriotism,  have  hallowed  to  the 
national  affections. 

To  a  being  constituted  with  the  peculiar 
humours  of  our  hero,  such  a  man  as  Doctor 
Dozadeal  could  not  fail  to  appear  in  the  most 
unfavourable  light.  The  whole  of  the  framed 
and  set-up  manners  which  the  doctor  had 
assumed  as  particularly  dignified  were  disagree- 
able to  Andrew  ;  and  his  shrewdness  detected, 
beneath  the  solemn  cloak  of  his  consequentially, 
a  character  which,  on  account  of  its  own  endow- 
ments and  merits,  was  really  entitled  to  no  ex- 
traordinary respect.  Instead,  therefore,  of  being- 
impressed  with  those  sentiments  of  awe  and 
admiration  which  the  doctor  constantly,  on  all 
occasions,  endeavoured  to  inspire,  and,  from  a 
few  of  the  parishioners,  certainly  sometimes 


54  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

obtained,  Andrew  was  in  the  practice,  even 
before  he  went  to  John  Gledd's,  of  mocking 
his  pomposity  ;  and  this  irreverent  disposition 
was  none  weakened  at  the  time  when  the  pre- 
parations were  making  for  his  departure  for 
London.  His  grandmother,  however,  deemed 
it  necessary  that  he  should  pay  the  doctor  a 
formal  visit  prior  to  his  departure,  in  order  to 
receive  his  advice,  according  to  a  good  old  custom 
that  had  prevailed  from  time  immemorial,  and 
ever  will  be  preserved  while  the  intercourse 
between  the  minister  and  his  parishioners  is 
maintained  on  true  Christian  and  Presbyterian 
principles.  The  doctor  himself  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  as  willing  as  our  hero  to  have  dis- 
pensed with  the  performance  of  this  ancient 
homage, — at  least  if  we  may  judge  by  the 
result. 

Andrew  crept  slowly  and  reluctantly  to  the 
manse  door,  and  on  asking  for  the  minister 
was  shown  into  the  parlour,  where  the  doctor 
was  sitting  at  a  table  slumbering  in  his  elbow- 
chair.  A  new  book,  with  a  few  of  the  earlv 
leaves  cut,  lay  before  him  ;  and  an  ivory  folder 
which  had  dropped  from  his  hand  was  lying 
on  the  floor  at  his  foot.  His  age  might  be  near 
fifty.  Jn  his  person  he  was  inclined  to  corpu- 
lency ;  and  there  was  a  certain  degree  of  sallow 
lethargy  in  the  cast  and  complexion  of  his 
features, — the  effect  of  habitual,  rather  than  of 
constitutional,  indolence.  Like  most  country 


PREPARATIONS  5.3 

clergymen,  in  the  forenoon  he  was  slovenly 
dressed.  His  breeches'  knees  were  only  half 
buttoned,  his  stockings  ill  drawn  up,  his  shoes 
unfastened  and  down  in  the  heel,  his  neckcloth 
lax  and  dirty  :  his  whole  appearance  betokening 
a  man  little  liable  to  be  disturbed  by  visitors. 

Andrew,  on  entering  the  room,  made  a  bob 
with  his  head  for  a  bow,  and  stood  for  about  a 
minute  swinging  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  looking 
round  the  walls  anel  towards  the  ceiling,  casting 
a  momentary  glance  towards  the  doctor,  who, 
roused  by  his  entrance,  seemed  to  wait  in  expec- 
tation of  some  communication.  Seeing,  however, 
that  Andrew  was  not  inclined  to  speak,  the 
doctor  said,  "Well,  Andrew,  what  is  your  busi- 
ness with  me  ?  " 

"  My  grannie  sent  me  to  tell  you,  sir,  that  I'm 
gaun  to  London  to  learn  the  law  there,"  was  the 
reply,  uttered  at,  but  not  to,  the  doctor ;  for  by 
this  time  his  eyes  had  settled  on  the  dial-plate 
of  the  minister's  watch,  which  hung  over  the 
mantelpiece. 

"  And  when  do  you  go  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor. 

"  As  soon  as  my  grannie  can  get  my  bit  pack 
o'  duds  l  ready,"  said  Andrew,  in  the  same  care- 
less and  awkward  manner.  The  doctor  then 
requested  him  to  sit  down,  and  Andrew  seated 
himself  on  the  chair  nearest  the  door. 

"\  hope,"  said  the  minister,  "you  will  do  your 
endeavour  to  give  satisfaction  to  your  employers/' 
1  Duds.  Clothes. 


56  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  An  I  dinna  do  that,  what  will  come  o'  me  ?  " 
was  the  answer. 

"  You  must  study  to  acquire  respectful  manners, 
and  to  behave  properly  towards  your  superiors." 

Andrew  made  no  reply  to  this ;  but  raising 
his  eyes,  which,  on  taking  his  seat,  he  had  cast 
downward,  he  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  doctor^ 
who  continued,  "  For  you  must  have  often  heard 
it  remarked  that  a  man's  manners  commonly 
make  his  fortune." 

"Atweel  I  should  ken  that,"  said  Andrew,  in 
the  most  indifferent  manner ;  "  for  it  was  aye  the 
first  copy-line  that  the  maister  set  when  he  put 
us  in  sma'  write." 

The  doctor's  countenance  was  a  little  troubled 
by  this  reply,  on  account  not  only  of  the  words, 
but  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  said  ;  and  he 
resumed,  with  an  accent  somewhat  approaching 
to  severity — 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  have  good  friends  to 
take  you  by  the  hand  in  London  ;  and  it  is  well 
you  are  so  fortunate,  for  I  doubt,  young  man,  you 
will  need  all  their  assistance." 

The  cheeks  of  Andrew  flushed  for  a  moment 
at  this  observation,  and  again  he  darted  a  glance 
from  under  his  brows  towards  the  doctor,  who 
continued  speaking,  his  voice  gradually  rising 
into  the  tone  of  a  lecture. 

"  Hitherto,  you  have  been  but  on  the  threshold 
of  the  world,  and  you  have  experienced  none  of 
its  difficulties  ;  you  will  find  now  that  mankind 


PREPARATIONS  5? 

are,  in  general,  an  unfriendly  race,  and  that  in 
London  they  are  very  different  from  your  rustic 
friends  here  in  Stoneyholm.  There,  the  success- 
ful look  proudly  down  on  the  poor,  bestriding  the 
path  to  prevent  new  candidates  from  sharing  with 
them  the  vantage-ground  of  fortune." 

"Gin  they'll  no  let  me  by,  I  maun  try  to  run 
through  aneath  their  legs,"  said  Andrew,  inter- 
rupting the  oration  with  a  sly  indifferency,  which 
effectually  disconcerted  the  reverend  doctor,  who, 
taking  up  the  book  from  the  table,  said,  in  a  tone 
equivalent  to  a  dismissal,  "  I  wish  you,  young 
man,  all  manner  of  success ;  and  may  the  bless- 
ing of  Heaven  prosper  your  undei'takings." 

"  I'm  very  mickle  obliged  to  you,"  replied 
Andrew  di'ily ;  and  opening  the  door  at  the  same 
time  bobbed  his  head  as  carelessly  as  when  he 
entered,  and  immediately  retired. 

"  What  did  the  minister  say  to  you  ?  "  inquired 
Martha,  when  Andrew  went  home  a  little  sulkily. 

"  I  fancy  he  gied  me  his  benison,"  said  Andrew. 
"  But  I'm  thinking  he's  no  that  weel  versed 
in  the  folk  o'  London,  mair  than  mysel' ;  for  he 
would  hae  gart  me  trow1  that  they  hae  horns 
on  their  head  to  dish  the  like  o'  me,  and  hooves 
to  tread  upon  us  when  doon.  For  a'  that,  I'm 
no  fear't." 

During  the  short  remainder  of  the  time  he 
spent  at  Stoneyholm,  he  seemed,  as  the  period  of 
his  departure  drew  near,  to  attach  himself  more 
1  Gart  me  troio.  Caused  1110  to  believe. 


58  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

and  more  to  the  different  gaffers  and  goodies l  of 
the  village,  and  to  enjoy  their  peculiarities  with  a 
keener  relish  than  ever.  His  little  attentions,  in 
this  respect,  gave  a  degree  of  eclat  to  the  event 
of  his  removal  which  could  hardly  have  been 
expected  to  attend  the  transit  of  one  so  young 
and  so  slenderly  connected  in  the  parish.  On  the 
evening  immediately  before  he  set  out  on  his 
journey,  a  number  of  the  farmer-lads  who  had 
been  at  the  master's  school  with  him  came  into 
the  clachan  to  bid  him  farewell,  and  a  little 
dance  was,  in  consequence,  struck  up  in  Saunders 
Chappin's  public.  With  the  friendliness  and  the 
good-humour  of  the  party  he  was  evidently  much 
delighted  ;  but  an  old  man,  who  happened  to  look 
in  upon  the  ploy,  said,  "  Wheelie  took  it  a'  as  ane 
of  some  degree,"- — a  remark  which  was  afterwards 
remembered  much  to  the  credit  of  the  sagacious 
observer,  and  (although  there  could  be  as  yet  no 
particular  change  in  Andrew's  demeanour)  would 
imply  that  he  felt  himself  no  longer  belonging  to 
the  same  class  as  his  youthful  associates.  It  is 
for  philosophers,  however,  to  assign  the  proper 
source  of  that  which  the  village  sage  so  early  dis- 
covered as  an  omen  of  success. 

1  Gaffirs  and  goodies.     Old  gossips,  men  and  women. 


CHAPTER    X 

Departure. 

J.N  the  morning  on  which  our  hero  was  to  bid  a 
long  adieu  to  his  native  village,  he  was  awake 
and  stirring  with  the  lark.  It  was  the  eye  of 
summer,  and  the  weather  was  clear  and  beautiful. 
The  smoke  rose  from  his  grandmother's  chimney 
as  straight  as  a  column,  and  stood  over  it  like  a 
high-spreading  tree,  long  before  the  symptoms 
of  housewifery  appeared  in  any  other  cottage  in 
the  hamlet;  for  the  Glasgow  carrier  was  to  pass 
at  sunrise,  and  Andrew  was  requested  to  be  in 
readiness  by  that  time  to  go  with  him.  When 
the  carrier  stopped  to  call  him,  he  came  instantly 
out  alone,  with  his  box  on  his  shoulder,  and  the 
door  was  immediately  closed  behind  :  no  one  saw 
Martha  till  long  after  he  was  out  of  sight.  The 
master,  who  was  abroad  to  convoy  him  a  part  on 
his  way,  was  the  first  who  visited  her,  and  he 
found  her  sitting  with  the  Bible  on  her  knee, 
wiping  her  spectacles : — there  were  drops  011 
the  page  which  showed  what  had  dimmed  the 
glasses. 

In  going   along   the  road,   several   of  the  lads 


60  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

with  whom  Andrew  had  spent  the  preceding 
evening  were  standing  at  the  end  of  the  loans 
which  led  to  the  farms  where  they  were  as  herds 
or  as  ploughmen,  and  they  blithely  shook  hands 
with  him  as  he  passed,  hoping  he  would  return 
with  gold  in  goupens.1  But  the  cart  soon  drove 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  circle  which  contained 
all  his  school-fellows,  and  reached  the  head  of  a 
rising  ground,  where,  the  road  diverging  behind 
the  hills,  Stoneyholm,  and  the  woods  and  fields 
of  the  Craiglands,  were  hidden  from  the  view.  At 
this  spot  ou.r  young  adventurer  paused  and  looked 
back  :  no  presentiment  of  evil  overcast  his  hopes 
at  that  moment,  but  a  number  of  gay  and  cheerful 
recollections  endeared  the  scene  to  him ;  and  he 
said  to  the  carrier,  "  It's  a  blithesome  place  yon, 
and  I'm  thinking  it  may  be  a  while  before  I'll  see 
sic  bonny  trees  and  green  braes  as  the  woods  and 
lands  o'  the  Craiglands." 

After  this,  he  continued  to  walk  beside  the 
carrier  for  some  time  in  silence ;  and,  indeed, 
nothing  is  remembered  of  the  remainder  of  his 
journey  to  Glasgow,  nor  did  he  himself  recollect 
anything  he  passed  till  the  High  Church  steeples 
were  in  sight, — which  the  carrier  pointed  out,  by 
touching  him  on  the  back  ;  for  he  was  then  seated 
on  the  cart,  and  had  been  for  some  time,  in  a 
state  of  drowsy  reverie  that  seemed  almost  like 
sleep. 

At  Glasgow  he  was  conducted  to  his  relation, 
1  Goupens.  Ilundfuls. 


DEPARTURE  61 

Mr  Treddles,  the  manufacturer.  It  was t about 
three  o'clock  when  he  arrived  at  the  house  ;  and 
(as  the  worthy  fabricator  of  muslins  told  ourselves 
at  the  last  circuit)  "There  never  was  surely  a 
droller-like  thummert  o'  a  creature  seen  entering 
a  biggit  land.1  He  had  on  a  pair  o'  dark-blue 
pat-dyed  rig-and-fur  rauckle-wheel  worsted  stock- 
ings,2 though  it  was  a  day  in  which  dogs  lay 
panting  wi'  their  tongues  out,  and  his  coat  was 
cut  wi'  an  eye  to  a  considerable  increase  in  baith 
his  bulk  and  stature.  We  were  just  gaun  to  tak 
our  kail,  and  the  gudewife  bade  AndreAV  sit  in 
and  partake  ;  but  he  said,  '  Od,  Mistress  Treddles, 
ye're  far  in  the  day  wi'  your  meal-time.  I  thought 
ye  would  hae  had  that  o'er  by  twal  hours,  and  as 
I  hae  ate  the  piece  on  the  road  that  grannie  gied 
me,  I'm  no  that  ready  yet  for  ony  mair.  So  wi' 
your  Avill,  I'll  e'en  gae  out  and  look  at  the  ferlies 
and  uncos  3  o'  Glasgow.' 

"  Wi'  that,"  quo'  Mr  Treddles,  "  he  whiskit 
like  a  whitteret 4  out  o'  the  door,  and  we  saw 
naething  o'  him  till  mair  than  twa  hours  after, 
when  he  came  home,  and  just  confounded  us,  for 
he  had  been  to  see  King  William,  and  was  up 
at  the  Hie  Kirk.  I'll  never  forget  the  laugh  we 
got,  at  what  he  said  o'  the  college.  It's  been  a 

1  Thummert  (Foumart)  is  a  pole-cat:  "  Tho  thummert,  vll" 
cat,  brock,  and  tod."  (Burns,  Twa  Herds. )  Biyyit  land  is  land 
built  on  :  a  town. 

-  Ri'j-and-fur  stockings.     Ribbed  stockings. 

3  Ferlies  and  uncos.     Tho  "lions." 

4  Whitteret.     Weasel. 


62  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

sprose,1  amang  us  ever  sin  syne.  '  Heh  ! '  quo' 
he,  '  but  yon's  a  gruesome-like  place  ;  the  very 
winnocs 2  are  like  the  peering  een  and  bent 
brows  of  auld  Philsophorum.'  " 

"  It  happened  that  night/'  continued  the  manu- 
facturer in  his  narration,  "that  we  had  some 
neighbours  in  to  their  tea,  and  the  mistress  had 
provided  shortbread  and  seed-cake,  wi'  some  o' 
her  jelly  and  marmolet,  according  to  the  use  and 
wont  o'  such  occasions.  When  the  tea  was  filled 
out,  our  friend  drew  in  his  chair  to  the  table, 
and  wasna  slack  either  wi'  teeth  or  wi'  claw  on 
the  dainties.  '  Ye  seem  to  like  that  kind  o' 
bread,  Andrew/  said  the  mistress. — 'Atweel/ 
quo'  he,  '  it's  no  ill  to  tak ; '  and  wi'  that  he 
continued  to  work  awa'  at  it  wi'  the  greatest  in- 
dustry ;  and  when  he  was  satisfied,  he  set  back 
his  chair,  and  took  the  chumla-lug,  in  afore 
Mrs  M 'Vicar,  the  major's  widow,  a  perjink 3 
elderly  woman  that  never  forgot  it,  till  about 
nine  o'clock,  when  he  rose,  and  lifting  one  of 
the  candles,  said,  'Mistress  Treddles,  I'll  awa' 
to  my  bed ;  for  I  maun  be  up  to  get  the  Edin- 
burgh carrier  the  morn's  morning  by  skreigh  o' 
day.4  Whar  am  I  to  cuddle  ?  ' — I  thought  we 
would  have  a'  deet  at  this.  But  when,  the  lass 
took  him  wi'  another  light  to  the  strangers'  room, 
Mr  Plank,  that  was  o'  the  company,  a  deep  and 

1  Sprosc.     By-word. 

-    \l'innocs.     Windocks.    Windows.          3  Perjink.     Precise. 

4  Skrciyh  o  day.     Break  of  clay. 


DEPARTURE  63 

observant  man,  said,  '  Yon  lad's  no  to  be  laughed 
at.  He'll  learn  mair  havins  belyve  ; l  and  if  he 
pursues  his  ain  end  \vi'  honesty,  and  as  little 
in  the  awe  o'  the  world  as  he  seems  to  feel  at 
present,  he'll  thrive  in  London,  or  ony  other 
place  wherein  his  lot  may  be  cast.'  " 

By  this  account,  it  would  really  seem  that 
Andrew,  in  his  outset,  had  produced  a  sensation 
even  in  Glasgow.  It  was  certainly,  however, 
not  such  as  would  have  led  any  one  to  suppose 
he  would  ever  become  a  favourite  with  the 
elegant  and  fashionable. 

On  the  following  morning,  as  he  said  himself, 
by  "  the  skreigh  o'  day,"  he  was  mounted  with 
his  "pack  of  duds"  on  the  top  of  one  of  the 
Edinburgh  carts ;  and  in  due  time,  in  the  after- 
noon, reached  Linlithgow,  where  the  carriers 
stopped.  "  Lithgow  for  wells,  and  Glasgow  for 
bells,"  is  a  saying  that  few  schoolboys  in  Scot- 
land have  not  heard  ;  and  Andrew  was  deeply 
versed  in  those  honourable  traditions  which  exalt 
the  affections  of  Scottish  patriotism  so  highly 
that,  even  with  the  eyes  of  manhood,  the  Scotch- 
man is  rarely  to  be  found  who,  with  all  that 
travel  and  experience  teach  to  the  contrary,  will 
not  contend  for  the  superiority  of  the  national 
monuments  of  his  native  land — to  say  nothing 
whatever  of  the  superior  excellence  of  her  in- 
stitutions. In  Andrew,  this  partiality  was  deeply 
impressed ;  and,  with  mingled  sentiments  of  ad- 
1  Havins  Ldnvc.  Manners  l>v-nn<l-V-. 


64  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

miration  and  sorrow,  he  contemplated  the  ruinr, 
of  the  royal  palace,  and  inspected  the  dilapidated 
fountains  which  gave  rise  to  the  rhyme  quoted. 
Linlithgow,  in  its  day,  was  the  Versailles  of 
Scotland ;  and  the  Court  which  resided  there 
prior  to  the  Reformation  was  justly  esteemed 
at  the  time  one  of  the  gayest  in  Europe.  Holy- 
rood  and  Stirling  stand  more  dignified,  in  the 
prejudices  of  the  country,  by  tales  of  dark  con- 
spiracies and  bold  adventures ;  but  the  courtesies 
of  chivalrv  and  song  are  associated  with  Lin- 
lithgow. 

While  Andrew  was  hovering  round  the  skirts 
of  the  palace,  an  old  woman  who  happened  at 
the  time  to  be  passing,  with  a  large  key,  and  a 
smaller  tied  to  it,  dangling  in  her  hand,  said, 
"  Hey,  lad,  would  you  like  to  see  the  Queen  and 
the  King's  seat  ? "  This  was  a  temptation  that 
Andrew  was  not  then  in  a  humour  to  resist ;  but 
before  indulging  himself  he  inquired  what  the 
sight  would  cost. 

"  Ye  maun  gie  me  twopence,  I'se  warrant," 
said  the  woman. 

"'Deed  no,  lucky,"  replied  Andrew;  "fools 
and  their  siller  are  soon  parted.  I'll  gie  you 
twal  pennies  l  gin  ye  like  to  tak  it,  and  ye  had 
better  do ;  for  I 'in  gaim  out  o'  the  kintra,  and 
ye'll  hae  nae  chance  to  get  either  plack  or  baw- 
bee 2  frae  me  a'  your  days." 

1  Twal  pennies,  Scots,  or  ono  penny  sterling. 

2  Plack  <jr  bawbee.     Four  or  six  pennies  Scots. 


DEPARTURE  65 

After  some  altercation  Andrew  was  admitted, 
and  sat  himself  in  the  very  seat  where  the  gallant 
and  unfortunate  James  of  Flodden  Field  used  to 
hear  mass ;  arid  he  saw  also,  with  as  sincere  a  faith 
in  the  truth  of  the  story  as  any  boy  of  his  age 
did  in  the  age  when  it  happened,  the  chapel- 
aisle  where  the  apparition  of  St  Andrew  warned 
the  King  from  that  fatal  campaign,  which  the 
muses  of  Scotland  have  never  ceased  to  deplore, 
and  never  more  impressively  than  in  our  own  time, 
converting  (as  it  were,  by  a  beautiful  alchemy) 
the  memory  of  national  disgrace  and  misfortunes 
into  motives  of  national  pride  that  tend  to  add 
vigour  to  the  energies  of  patriotism. 


Edinburgh. 

JL  HE  feelings  with  which  the  relics  of  regal 
grandeur  at  Linlithgow  had  inspired  our  hero 
were  greatly  augmented  when,  at  an  early  hour 
next  day,  he  beheld  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh 
rising  above  the  mists  that  floated  round  its  rocky 
base.  But  instead  of  indulging  his  curiosity  when 
he  reached  the  carriers'  quarters,  he  immediately 
engaged  a  porter  to  carry  his  box,  and  to  conduct 
him  to  Leith,  where  he  was  that  day  to  embark 
in  a  London  trader.  Fortunately,  the  vessel  was 
not  to  sail  till  the  evening,  and  this  allowed  him 
several  hours  to  inspect  the  curiosities  of  the  city. 
The  porter  who  had  carried  his  trunk,  011  under- 
standing his  intention,  offered  his  services  ;  but 
they  were  declined, — and  for  two  reasons  :  the 
principal  was  that  he  would  expect  payment  for 
his  pains  ;  and  the  other,  because  he  was  a  High- 
landman,  that  thought  Macallam  More  a  greater 
man  than  Nebuchadnezzar. 

Considering  Andrew's  intuitive  perception  of 
character,  it  is  not  probable  from  this  opinion  (for 
we  quote  his  own  words)  that  lie  sustained  any 

OG 


EDINBURGH  67 

loss  by  refusing  the  Highlander's  guidance.  But 
in  visiting  the  different  parts  of  the  Old  Town, 
the  Castle,  and  Holyrood  House,  he  sometimes 
wandered  ;  and,  as  the  Edinburgh  boys  are  not 
less  inclined  to  mischief  than  their  contemporaries 
elsewhere,  his  inquiries  were  not  always  answered 
with  a  strict  adherence  to  truth,  or  the  most 
benevolent  wish  to  set  him  in  the  right.  How- 
ever, he  nevertheless  contrived  to  see  all  the 
most  remarkable  objects  to  which  history  has 
attached  any  importance ;  and  having  satisfied  him- 
self in  that  respect,  he  dined  on  "  parliaments  '' 
and  "  quality,"  by  which  he  both  saved  money 
and  time,  for  he  ate  his  dinner  as  he  walked 
along. 

As  the  time  approached  when  it  was  requisite 
he  should  go  back  again  to  Leith,  lie  met  two 
ladies.  One  of  them  was  a  tall  elegant  girl,  with 
a  sprightly  fashionable  air ;  the  other,  consider- 
ably older,  and  of  a  more  sedate  demeanour.  It 
was  Mary  Cunningham,  and  one  of  the  gover- 
nesses of  the  boarding-school  where  she  had  so 
long  been. 

"  Wheelie  ! "  exclaimed  Mary  with  delight,  the 
moment  she  saw  him.  "What's  brought  you 
here  ?  " 

Andrew  for  an  instant  stood  aghast,  to  be  so 
addressed  by  a  lady  so  fine  and  fashionable  ;  but, 
seeing  who  it  was,  recovered  himself  (as  it  were) 
with  an  elastic  bound,  and  said,  in  his  familiar 
manner,  "  I  cam  frae  the  Stoneyholm  to  Glasgow 


68  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

on  Johnny  Gottera's  cart,  and  syne  here  wi'  the 
Edinburgh  carrier." 

"  Did  ye  ever  see  such  a  modiwart 1  like  thing  ?  " 
said  Mary  laughingly,  turning  to  the  governess ; 
"but  he's  as  pawkie  as  a  fairy.  Can  ye  say  a' 
your  fifty  psalms  yet,  Wheelie  ?  " 

"  Maybe  I  might,  an'  ye  would  hearken  me 
again,"  was  his  answer, — a  little  curiously,  how- 
ever. But  to  this  Mary  made  no  direct  reply, 
saying  only — 

"  What  are  ye  come  to  Edinburgh  for  ?  " 

"I'm  on  my  way  to  London." 

"  To  London,  Wheelie  !  "  exclaimed  Mary  with 
astonishment ;  and  then  she  added,  briskly,  "  And 
so  ye  haena  made  your  fortune  at  Kilwimiing  ?  " 

Andrew  blushed,  and  looked  his  reply. 

"  Miss  Cunningham,"  interposed  the  governess, 
"  this  is  a  very  improper  conversation." 

With  these  words  they  parted,  Mary  laughing 
gaily  as  Andrew,  pleased  and  sheepishly,  moved 
forward  also  in  the  opposite  direction.  When  he 
had  walked  about  twenty  paces,  he  paused,  and 
looked  back ;  Mary  also,  at  the  same  time,  looked 
behind,  and,  seeing  him,  kissed  her  hand  in  a  gay 
and  triumphant  manner. 

Andrew,  although  strangely  affected  by  the 
sight  of  the  towering  lily  that  Mary  had  grown, 
and  overborne  by  her  sprightliness,  was  delighted 
at  the  vivid  recollection  which  she  seemed  to 
retain  of  the  principal  incidents  with  which  he 
1  Modiwart.  Mole. 


EDINBURGH  69 

image,  as  a  lassie,  was  associated  in  his  recollec- 
tion. It  did  not  appear  to  him  that  her  banter 
was  embittered  with  any  scorn  ;  on  the  contrary, 
it  had  a  flavour  of  kindness  in  it,  which  a  youth 
of  seventeen  could  not  but  enjoy  with  something 
allied  to  hope  and  pleasure.  With  a  buoyant 
bosom,  and  a  light  step,  he  pursued  his  way  to 
Leith,  where  he  immediately  went  on  board  the 
vessel  that  was  to  him  the  bark  of  destiny. 

For  the  first  two  days  after  the  trader  left 
Lcith,  like  most  of  the  passengers,  he  was  so 
dreadfully  afflicted  with  what  Dr  Pringle  calls 
"  the  grievous  prostration "  that  he  could  not 
raise  his  head ;  but  still  there  was  something  so 
queer  in  the  manner  in  which  he  bore  his  suffer- 
ings that  it  at  once  amused  and  interested  his 
fellow-passengers.  They  saw  by  his  appearance 
that  he  was  only  a  simple  country  boy  ;  but  the 
self-possession  which  he  evinced  in  the  intervals 
of  the  malady  showed  that,  though  clad  in  hodden- 
grey,  he  was  not  entirely  made  of  rustic  stuff. 
He,  however,  took  no  part  in  the  conversation ; 
and  the  opinion  of  his  shrewdness  and  sagacity 
was  formed  from  his  looks,  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  set  about  his  little  offices,  and  chiefly 
by  an  observation  on  the  biscuit,  which  was  ex- 
ceedingly hard  :  "  It's  very  good/'  said  he,  "  and 
will  eat  wi'  pains." 

On  the  day  before  reaching  the  Thames,  his 
sickness  had  so  much  abated  that  he  began  to 
enter  into  the  humours  of  his  companions,  and 


70  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

an  opportunity  was  not  long  wanting  to  show  the 
irrepressible  droller}'  of  his  character.  Among 
the  passengers  was  a  spruce  young  man,  who  had 
been  a  student  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh  : 
foppish  in  his  dress,  stiff  and  conceited  in  his 
manners,  and  singularly  fastidious  towards  all  on 
board,  insomuch  that  he  Avas  generally  disliked  ; 
but  still  he  conducted  himself  so  that  he  had  not 
been  exposed  to  any  open  ridicule.  Andrew  per- 
ceived how  he  was  considered,  and  entering  into 
the  feelings  of  the  party  towards  this  unfortunate 
sprig  of  delicacy  and  condescension,  addressed  him 
after  dinner,  when  the  whole  party,  in  conse- 
quence of  a  shower,  was  seated  round  the  table 
below. 

"I'm  thinking,"  said  he,  very  gravely,  but  at 
the  same  time  looking  pawkily  and  peeringly 
round  the  table,  "that  I  have  seen  you  before, 
and  that  ye  hae  had  a  roasted  goose  mony  a  day 
for  your  dinner.  Were  na  ye  'prentice  to  Thomas 
Steek,  the  tailor  in  our  parish  ?  " 

The  student  looked  aghast  while  the  laugh 
rose  universal  against  him,  and  he  repelled  this 
assault  on  his  gentility  with  the  most  vehement 
indignation. 

"Na,"  said  Andrew,  "I'm  sure  ye  needna  be 
ashamed  o'  your  trade,  although  it  was  thought 
that  ye  had  fled  the  country-side  for  spoiling  the 
cut  o'  Tammy  Daidles's  breeks.  It's  an  honest 
calling  a  tailor's,  and  I  ne'er  heard  it  said  that 
ye  were  gien  to  cabbaging ;  but  the  auld  wives 


EDINBURGH  71 

thought  ye  wercna  sac  gleg  \vi'  your  needle  as 
some  others  that  had  served  their  time  with  the 
same  master,  though  they  said  ye  dippet  your 
spoon  in  the  parritch  deeper  than  ony  o'  them." 

The  unfortunate  fop  was  petrified.  Eveiy  one 
but  himself  perceived  the  drift  of  the  curious 
little  country  boy,  and  sat  in  admiration  of  what 
might  be  the  issue ;  at  last,  the  student,  no 
longer  able  to  restrain  his  rage,  threatened  to 
slay  Andrew  on  the  spot,  who  nevertheless,  with 
the  most  perfect  nonchalance,  replied,  "  Ye  had 
better  no  try  that ;  for  gin  ye  strike  me  for  what 
I'm  saying,  I'll  gar  ye  prove  before  the  lords  that 
you're  no  a  tailor,  and  I'm  sure  if  it  be  sac  that 
yc're  no  o'  that  craft,  I'll  refer  to  the  present 
company  if  ever  they  saw  a  creature  so  like  ane. 
But  it's  no  your  faut ;  and  if  the  han'  o'  God  has 
made  you  AVI'  shanks  like  ellwands,  and  sma' 
fingers  to  pook  needles  through  claith,  we  a'  ken 
ye  canna  help  it." 

The  student,  under  his  foppery,  was  not  desti- 
tute of  sense,  and  by  the  little  descriptive  touches 
in  this  last  sentence  suspecting  that  Andrew  was 
not  really  serious,  endeavoured  to  turn  the  tables. 
But  our  hero  was  more  than  his  match  at  banter ; 
and,  before  the  end  of  the  voyage,  had  so  raised 
himself  in  the  opinion  of  his  fellow-passengers 
that  they  were  universally  of  opinion  he  was  cal- 
culated to  make  his  way  in  London  with  great 
success,  in  spite  of  his  little  awkward  figure,  and 
the  droll  simplicity  of  his  manners. 


CHAPTER    XII 

London. 

IMMEDIATELY  on  his  arrival,  Andrew  was 
conducted  to  the  house  of  his  relation,  Mrs  Ipsey, 
where,  having  received  a  note  to  Mr  Vellum,  the 
solicitor  with  whom  her  husband  had  provided 
him  a  situation,  he  went  immediately  to  deliver  it. 
It  was  rather  adventurous  for  one  so  fresh  from 
the  country  to  attempt,  on  the  first  day,  to  find 
his  way  in  London,  with  only  "a.  gude  Scotch 
tongue "  for  his  guardian  genie.  The  conse- 
quence was  what  might  have  been  anticipated. 
He  lost  his  way,  and  went  wandering  through 
the  labyrinth  of  streets  in  Marylebone,  seeking 
(as  it  were)  an  outlet,  his  heart  almost  perishing 
within  him.  In  this  dilemma,  however,  he  met 
with  a  singular  stroke  of  good  fortune.  Charles 
Pierston  had,  about  a  year  before,  been  taken 
into  his  uncle's  counting-house  in  the  City  ;  and 
happening  to  be  in  that  part  of  the  town  on 
business,  they  accidentally  met.  The  joy  of  this 
encounter  was  excessive.  It  rescued  Andrew  from 
despair. 

Charles  was  grown  a  gay  and  elegantly-formed 
youth,  dressy  and  modish  even  to  foppery,  for  his 


LONDON  73 

uncle  was  liberal  and  indulgent  to  him,  perhaps 
to  a  fault ;  but  he  was  still  the  same  frank,  gene- 
rous, and  warm-hearted  lad,  and  although  no 
contrast  either  in  appearance  or  character  could 
be  more  striking  than  that  these  two  schoolfellows 
presented,  he  shook  hands  with  Andrew,  and 
welcomed  him  to  London  at  once  with  jokes  and 
shouts  of  gladness. 

"  Lord  bless  me,  but  I  am  blithe  to  see  you," 
cried  our  hero,  his  spirit  rebounding  up  into  all 
its  wonted  self-possession  in  finding  himself  again 
under  the  encouraging  countenance  of  "a.  kent 
face "  "  I  have  been  lost  amang  thir  houses, 
man,  for  hours,  till  I  believe  my  head's  no  right. 
Od  sake,  if  I  wasna  ready  to  lie  down  an'  dee, 
had  it  no  been  for  shame  !  " 

"Why  didn't  you  call  a  coach?"  said  Pierston, 
ready  to  expire  with  laughter  at  the  sincerity  of 
Andrew's  description  of  his  perplexity. 

"  O  Charlie  Pierston  ! "  exclaimed  the  novice, 
in  the  utmost  astonishment :  "  me  hire  a  coach ! 
Mary  Conn  in  a  coach ! 1  The  folk  would  hae 
thought  I  had  gane  by  mysel'.  Na,  na,  demented 
as  I  hae  been,  I  was  nae  so  far  left  to  myself, 
to  be  guilty  of  ony  sic  extravagance.  Me  hire  a 
whole  coach  !  Ah  !  Charlie,  Charlie,  I  maun  ca' 
mair  canny  ;  and  ye  ken  I  never  had  ony  turn  for 
gentility  like  you.  But  ye  maim  now  show  me 
the  way  to  Lincoln's  Inn,  whar  I'm  gaun  to  learn 
the  law." 

1  An  Ayrshire  saying. 


74  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Charles,  delighted  as  he  was  to  see  his  old  and 
queer  schoolfellow,  did  not  much  relish  the  idea 
of  walking  with  «o  singular  a  figure  in  the  streets. 
Accordingly,  when  they  reached  the  first  stand, 
he  called  a  coach  ;  but,  before  stepping  in,  Andrew 
said,  "  Now,  mind,  Charlie,  ye're  to  pay  for't  a' ; 
I'll  no  be  a  single  bawbee ;  for  I  hae  laid  it 
down  as  a  rule  no  to  waste  a  plack  on  ony  sort 
of  pleasure." 

"  Well,  well,  never  mind  that ;  I'll  settle  for  the 
coach  this  time,"  said  Charles,  "and  so  jump  in." 

When  they  were  seated,  Pierston  gathered 
from  him  an  account  of  his  hopes  and  prospects, 
and  he  was  irresistibly  tempted  to  play  him  an 
initiatory  prank.  Accordingly,  when  the  coach 
readied  the  door  of  Mr  Vellum's  chambers,  he 
leaped  briskly  out,  and  slipping  the  fare  into 
the  coachman's  hand  whispered  him  to  get  all 
he  could  more  from  the  other  gentleman.  The 
coachman  was  rogue  enough  for  his  own  interest 
to  enter  into  the  frolic ;  and  Charles  hurrying 
away,  pretending  he  was  pressed  for  time,  and  in 
his  flight  calling  back  to  Andrew  that  he  would 
see  him  soon  again,  left  him  in  the  paws  of  the 
coachman. 

"  Two  shillings,  your  honour,"  said  the  fellow, 
when  he  had  assisted  Andrew  to  alight. 

"  What's  that  for  ?  Didna  the  ither  lad  pay 
you  ?  It  was  him  that  hired  yoit  Ye  needna 
look  to  me  for  ony  payment." 

There  was  a  degree  of  tremor  and   indecision 


LONDON  75 

in  the  manner  in  which  this  answer  was  given 
that  encouraged  the  coachman  to  enforce  his  de- 
mand more  resolutely,  and  he  repeated  it. 

"  I  tell  you,  man,  that  it's  no  me  ye're  to  apply 
to.  What  the  deevil,  if  a  frien'  hire  a  chaise, 
and  gie  me  a  hurl,  am  I  to  pay  the  hire  ?  I  never 
heard  o'  sic  extortion  ;  go  awa'  wi'  you,  man  !  " 

Jehu  had  some  relish  of  humour  himself,  and 
played  still  further  with  the  apprehensions  of  our 
hero,  saying  he  should  pay  for  his  friend  and 
settle  it  afterwards  with  him. 

"  It's  ill  getting  a  breek  aff  a  Highlanman. 
Get  twa  shillings  frae  that  flea-luggit  rinnagate 
Charlie  Pierston,  who  had  ne'er  a  doit1  that  didna 
burn  a  hole  in  his  pouch  ! — I  ken  him  oner  weel 
to  let  his  score  gang  to  my  lawin.2  No,  my  lad, 
it's  of  no  use  to  argol-bargol  wi'  me.  I'll  no  be 
bow-wow't  out  of  my  shillings  oiiy  hoo  ;  and,  as  I 
said  before,  ye  maun  j  ust  gang  your  ways,  for  scot 
nor  lot  will  I  pay  you,  or  the  like  o'  you,  if  I 
should  be  damii'd  for't, — which  is  a  mickle  word 
for  me  to  say."  And  with  that  he  walked  briskly 
up  the  steps  that  led  to  Mr  Vellum's  chambers, 
while  the  coachman  mounted  his  box,  roaring  with 
laughter,  "like  the  mill-lade  at  Kilwinning  brig  in 
a  spait,"  as  Andrew  afterwards  told  Pierston. 

Mr  Vellum  was  an  able,  acute,  and  intelligent 
man  of  business,  in  the  prime  of  life,  active, 
gentlemanly,  and  decisive.  The  moment  that  he 


76  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

cast  his  eye  on  our  hero  he  perceived  lie  was  an 
original,  nor  did  he  like  him  the  less  for  his  un- 
couth appearance.  His  knowledge  of  the  world 
indeed  had  taught  him  that,  in  all  the  secondary 
and  laborious  departments  of  business,  such  char- 
peters  are  of  the  most  invaluable  description ; 
and,  in  consequence,  much  to  the  amazement  of 
several  spruce  young  fellows  who  were  casting 
contemptuous  glances  aside  on  the  stranger  as 
they  plied  their  nimble  quills,  he  received  him 
with  unusual  cordiality. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,"  said  Mr 
Vellum,  "for  it  is  now  term-time,  and  I  doubt 
not  you  will  soon  make  yourself  useful." 

"  I'll  no  fail  in  the  endeavour,"  replied  Andrew  ; 
"but  if  I  dinna  at  first  come  up  to  your  expecta- 
tion, ye  maun  just  bear  wi'  me  till  my  hail's 
sooplet 1  at  the  wark." 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  your  endeavour,  and 
you  may  now  take  your  place  at  the  desk." 

"  No  the  day,  sir,"  said  Andrew ;  "  for  I  hae 
tint  2  sic  a  time  by  losing  mysel'  ki  coming  from 
Mr  Ipsey's  that  I  maun  look  after  the  bit  pack 
wi'  my  claes  before  dark.  I'll  be  wi'  you,  how- 
ever, by  break  o'  day  the  morn's  morning." 

Mr  Vellum  acquiesced,  and  Andrew,  invigorated 
by  the  satisfactory  reception  he  had  met  with, 
and  perhaps  unconsciously  also  by  the  little  ex- 
perience he  had  gleaned  in  his  adventure  with 
Pierston,  proceeded  with  confidence  to  the  house 
1  Sooplet.  Made  pliant.  2  Tint.  Lost. 


LONDON  77 

of  a  Mrs  Callender,  whom  Mrs  Ipsey  had  recom- 
mended to  him  for  lodgings. 

It  was  situated  in  a  small  court,  off  one  of  the 
streets  in  the  vicinity  of  Red  Lion  Square,  and  in 
the  neatness  of  all  its  appearance  justified  the 
character  which  he  had  received  of  the  landlady. 
In  consequence  of  coming  from  Mrs  Ipsey,  Andrew 
was  shown  the  first  floor ;  but  when  informed 
that  the  rent  was  a  guinea  a  week,  he  turned  up 
his  eyes,  and  gasped  as  if  a  load  was  on  his  heart. 
At  last  he  was  enabled  to  articulate,  "  Ye'll  hae 
ither  rooms  ?  "  and,  being  answered  in  the  affir- 
mative, was  conducted  upstairs,  where  a  bargain 
was  concluded  for  an  attic  at  the  rate  of  four 
shillings  and  sixpence  per  week.  But  we  must 
not  undertake  to  describe  the  details  of  his 
household  arrangements  ;  we  shall,  therefore,  pass 
over  the  conversation  which  took  place  at  the 
bargain-making  with  simply  remarking  that  al- 
though Andrew  thought  Mrs  Callender  "dreadfu' 
dear  "  in  the  rent  of  her  room,  yet  he  was  much 
satisfied  with  her  orderly  house  and  motherly  ap- 
pearance, and  with  all  expedient  haste  proceeded 
to  the  wharf  to  get  his  luggage  brought  home. 

This,  however,  involved  difficulties  which  he 
had  not  anticipated.  He  guessed  from  the  length 
of  the  way,  which  did  not  seem  abridged  by  the 
necessity  he  was  under  of  inquiring,  at  every 
turn,  for  "the  road  to  Wapping/'  that  the  ex- 
pense of  porterage  for  his  trunk  would  be  con- 
siderable, and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  the 


78  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

whole  extent  of  a  shilling.  But  on  reaching  the 
wharf,  to  his  inexpressible  astonishment,  no  man 
could  be  found  who  would  undertake  the  task  for 
less  than  five  shillings,  the  very  mention  of  which 
brought  at  once  an  interjection  from  the  inner- 
most chambers  of  his  soul,  and  a  cold  sweat  on 
his  brows.  The  steward  of  the  vessel  advised 
him  to  take  a  coach ;  but  this  was  a  suggestion 
of  prodigality  still  more  insurmountable.  So  that, 
seeing  no  other  likely  way  of  getting  the  trunk 
carried,  he  manfully  resolved  to  bear  it  on  his 
own  shoulders. 

By  this  time  it  was  almost  dark,  and  there  was 
some  risk  that  the  landmarks,  which  he  had  ob- 
served to  guide  his  way,  would  be  soon  obscured 
from  his  view  if  he  did  not  make  haste.  Having, 
therefore,  shifted  his  coat  and  waistcoat  for  the 
old  ones  which  he  had  worn  in  the  passage,  he 
got  the  trunk  on  his  back,  and  bravely  set 
forward  from  Miller's  Wharf  to  find  his  way  to 
Holborn,  knowing  that,  if  he  was  once  there,  he 
would  soon  discover  the  road  to  Mrs  Callender's. 
But  to  carry  a  well-packed  trunk  through  the 
crowded  streets  of  London  was  no  easy  task  to  a 
stranger ;  and,  long  before  he  reached  the  Royal 
Exchange,  the  shades  of  darkness  had  deepened 
overhead,  and  the  lights  and  lamps  around  him 
shone  forth  in  all  their  wonted  nightly  splendour. 
Still,  however,  with  indefatigable  perseverance, 
winding  his  toilsome  way  along,  lie  at  length, 
after  many  halts,  reached  St  Sepulchre's  Church, 


LONDON  79 

where  he  placed  the  trunk  on  the  wall  of  the 
churchyard,  and  rested  to  breathe  and  to  wipe  his 
forehead. 

lie  had  not  travelled  so  burdened  unnoticed. 
A  gang  of  street-robbers  early  marked  him  for 
their  prey,  and  dogged  him  like  bloodhounds  in 
the  track  of  their  game  ;  but  his  wariness  had 
prevented  an  attack  till  they  saw  him  at  rest. 
One  of  those  freebooters,  a  little  in  advance  of 
the  others,  passed  him  a  few  paces,  and,  giving  a 
loud  shriek,  fell  dewn  on  the  pavement,  seem- 
ingly in  convulsions.  In  the  first  impulse  of  the 
moment,  Andrew  (as  the  thieves  had  calculated) 
started  forward  to  his  assistance  ;  but,  fortunately, 
in  doing1  so  his  trunk  fell  from  the  railing.  The 
jeopardy  in  which  he  saw  that  it  was  immediately 
placed,  by  the  companions  of  the  impostor  running 
towards  it,  checked  his  humanity,  and  he  clung 
to  it  with  the  fond  anxiety  of  a  mother  over  her 
darling  in  danger.  The  thieves  cursed  his  in- 
humanity, and  the  man  in  convulsions,  instantly 
recovering,  rose,  and  walked  away  with  an  alac- 
rity which  at  once  astonished  and  alarmed  our 
adventurer,  who  required  no  further  testimony 
respecting  the  character  of  the  parties. 

Saving  only  in  this  incident,  he  reached  the 
house  of  Mrs  Cullender  unmolested  ;  and  nothing 
could  exceed  the  laud  and  admiration  of  that 
worthy  dame  when  she  heard  what  he  had  accom- 
plished, and  the  presence1  of  mind  with  which  he 
had  preserved  hiw  trunk  from  tho  Philistines. 


80  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  I'm  sure/'  said  she,  "  Mr  Wylie,  that  you 
must  stand  in  need  of  your  tea.  Do  sit  down, 
and  in  the  parlour  I'll  get  it  ready,  with  a  nice 
comfortable  bit  of  toast." 

"  I  Avould  like  that  unco  weel,"  replied  Andrew; 
"but  it's  dainties  I  mauna  think  o'.  So  I'll  thank 
you  to  get  me  a  mutchkin  of  strong  yill  and  a 
cooky,  which  will  baith  serve  me  for  four-hours1 
and  supper." 

Mrs  Callender  declared  that  she  did  not  believe 
any  such  things  could  be  had  in  London.  But 
she  could  get  him  a  slice  of  ham  and  a  pint  of 
porter. 

"  The  woman's  deleerit ! "  exclaimed  Andrew. 
"  Does  she  think  that  I'll  make  a  sow  o'  mysel' 
wi'  drinking  a  whole  pint  o'  porter  ?  " 

Presently,  however,  recollecting  that  there  was 
some  difference  between  the  Scotch  and  English 
measure,  he  inquired  the  expense ;  and,  having 
saved  the  porterage  of  his  luggage,  he  adopted  her 
suggestion  as  to  the  porter,  but  would  yield  to  no 
such  seduction  as  the  ham. 

Having  recruited  his  strength  in  Mrs  Callender's 
parlour,  he  proposed  going  to  bed,  as  he  was  much 
tired.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  I  needna  be  laying  in 
ony  stores  till  I  see  about  me  in  the  morning ;  so 
that,  gin  ye  hae  ony  sic  thing  as  a  candle-doup 
aboot  the  house,  I'll  be  obliged  if  ye'll  lend  me't 
the  night." 

This  request  needed  some  explanation.  In  the 
1  Four  hoars.  The  meal  now  known  u.s  Tea. 


LONDON  8 1 

end,  however,  a  mutual  understanding  took  place 
on  the  subject,  but  without  materially  tending  to 
exalt  the  character  for  liberality  of  our  hero  in 
the  opinion  of  his  landlady.  Nevertheless,  she 
lent  him  the  candle.  Having  retired  for  the 
night  to  his  chamber,  and  extinguished  the  light, 
he  knelt  down  at  the  bedside.  But  the  hopes, 
the  wishes,  and  the  anxieties,  which  the  young 
adventurer  communicates  to  Heaven  in  such  a 
time,  belong  to  a  more  holy  strain  of  feeling  than 
we  may  here  venture  to  unfold. 


VOL.  i. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

First  Impressions. 

JM.R  VELLUM  had  for  clients  several  persons  of 
high  rank,  and,  among  others,  the  Earl  of  Sandy- 
ford.  His  lordship  was  still  on  the  gay  side  of 
thirty,  and  justly  considered  one  of  the  most 
elegant  men  of  the  age ;  but  from  the  date  of 
his  marriage  with  Lady  Augusta  Spangle,  the 
daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Aberside,  he  had 
disappointed  the  expectations  of  his  friends. 
Instead  of  taking  that  splendid  part  in  the  de- 
liberations of  the  kingdom  for  which  he  seemed 
naturally,  by  his  animated  temperament  and  lofty 
eloquence,  peculiarly  qualified,  he  suddenly  rushed 
into  the  whirlpool  of  fashionable  dissipation,  and 
squandered  his  estate  and  talents  with  a  vehe- 
mence that  not  only  surprised,  but  alarmed,  while 
it  mortified,  his  friends  and  admirers  :  for  it  ap- 
peared to  be  the  result  of  some  wild,  yet  volun- 
tary, resolution,  as  if  he  sought,  bv  the  velocity 
of  a  headlong  career,  to  escape  the  miseries  of 
some  mysterious  sorrow. 

When  his  lordship   first   entered   the   arena  of 
fashion,    he    was    strikingly    handsome,    and    the 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  83 

expression  of  his  countenance,  which  was  nobly 
intelligent,  indicated  great  elevation  of  senti- 
ment, tinctured  with  an  urbanity  full  of  playful- 
ness and  good-humour.  At  the  period  of  which  we 
are  now  speaking,  however,  he  was  become  pale 
and  slender ;  an  elegant  listlessness  pervaded  his 
whole  frame  ;  and  his  voice,  which  naturally  was 
clear  and  finely  modulated,  had  dwindled  into 
an  habitual  monotonous  simper,  suitable,  indeed, 
to  the  small  topics'  he  affected  to  discuss,  but 
evidently  cared  as  little  about  as  he  did  for  any- 
thing else.  Occasionally,  however,  his  true  char- 
acter would  shine  out,  raid  show  that  his  foppery 
was  but  assumed,  and  that  he  might  still  be 
roused  to  better  things,  and  stand  forth  in  the 
erect  superiority  of  a  genius  conscious  of  its  in- 
nate strength,  and  ready,  when  sufficient  cause 
required,  to  manifest  its  incalculable  power. 

About  the  time  that  our  hero  arrived  in  London, 
it  had  been  remarked  that  the  earl  went  less 
into  company  than  formerly,  and  that  sometimes 
he  spent  the  morning  in  the  House  of  Lords, — 
yawning,  it  is  true,  to  the  tuneless  eloquence  and 
metaphysical  distinctions  of  some  litigious  advo- 
cate from  the  north,  addressing,  with  equal  effect, 
the  Chancellor  and  the  woolsacks,  and  no  less 
delighting  the  attendant  solicitors  than  the  faded 
worthies  of  Elizabeth's  reign  in  the  tapestry,  who, 
in  appeal  cases,  are  commonly  all  the  spectators. 
Once  in  the  evening,  when  he  happened,  in  the 
course  of  that  spring,  to  obey  a  summons  of  the 


84  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

House  on  an  important  political  question,  he  was 
so  far  excited  by  the  conflict  of  debate  that  he 
actually  made  a  speech  of  three  sentences,  so 
judicious  and  well  expressed  that  it  tingled  in 
the  ears  of  the  most  experienced  senators  with  a 
thrill  of  a  new  sensation,  and  was  hailed  as  the 
symptom  of  a  redeeming  spirit  that  might  in 
time  convert  him  from  those  pursuits  which  had 
injured  equally  his  health,  his  fortune,  and  his 
character. 

Some  time  after  this,  his  lordship  had  occasion 
to  confer  with  Mr  Vellum,  and  it  happened  that 
when  he  called  at  his  chambers  our  hero  was  the 
only  person  within.  A  brief  colloquy,  in  conse- 
quence, took  place  at  the  door,  which  had  the 
effect  of  interesting  his  lordship's  curiosity  ;  inso- 
much that,  partly  with  the  intention  of  resting  a 
few  minutes,  perhaps  more,  however,  with  the 
design  of  extracting  a  little  amusement,  he  was 
induced  to  walk  into  the  office,  and  take  a  seat  on 
one  of  the  elevated  stools  at  the  desk.  Andrew 
had  no  conception  of  the  rank  of  the  visitor  ;  and, 
as  he  was  not  altogether  satisfied  with  this  free- 
dom, he  stood  warily  holding  the  inner  door  open, 
as  an  intimation  to  his  lordship  that  he  ought  not 
to  remain  ;  but  the  oddity  of  his  appearance,  and 
the  sly  suspicion  of  his  looks,  with  the  simplicity 
of  his  manners,  diverted  the  peer,  who,  after  in- 
specting him  through  a  quizzing-glass  from  head 
to  foot,  said,  with  an  affectation  of  fashionable 
inanity,  swinging  his  feet  at  the  same  time, 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  85 

"  These  stools  of  yours,  young  man,  are  very 
tall." 

"  Ay,"  replied  Andrew,  "  they're  gey  an'  heigh." 
The  assumed  indifference  of  the  earl  was  almost 
discomposed  by  the  flatness  of  this  answer ;  and, 
pulling  out  his  handkerchief  to  hide  the  effect, 
he  said  at  the  same  time,  "  Pray,  friend,  where 
were  you  caught  ?  " 

"  Sir,  I  never  was  catched,"  was  the  indignant 
answer. 

"  Indeed  ! "  said  his  lordship.  "  How  then 
came  you  to  London  ?  " 

"  Hoo  should  I  come  ?  " 

"A  very  satisfactory  answer,  I  must  con- 
fess," rejoined  the  earl;  "and  I  have  no  doubt 
you  had  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  your 
travels  ?  " 

"  Ah,  trouth  !  "  quoth  our  hero,  "  if  the  bock- 
ing1  the  soul  out  o'  the  body  be  ony  pleasure,  I 
had  enough  o'  that  pleasure  !  Gude  forgie  me  ! 
but  I  was  amaist  tempted  to  mak  awa'  wi'  mysel. 
Eh !  I  thought  if  I  could  hae  dee't,  it  would 
hae  been  a  satisfaction.  Na,  na,  sir,  I  would  nae 
advise  my  sworn  enemy  to  come  in  a  ship  by  sea 
frae  Scotland." 

The  earl,  still  preserving  all  due  seriousness, 
said,  "  May  I  presume  to  inquire  if  you  arc  a 
lawyer?  " 

"  I'm  learning/'  replied  Andrew  modestly. 

"  A  very  judicious  answer,"  was  the  ironical 
1  liockiwj.  Vomitin. 


86  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

observation  of  his  lordship.  "  And  how  long  may 
you  have  been  in  the  profession?" 

"  Before  coming  here,  I  was  weel  on  to  three 
years  with  John  Gledd,  the  messenger,  and  I  hae 
been  three  days  wi'  Mr  Vellum." 

"It  is  an  honourable  profession, . and  I  doubt 
not  you  will  become  a  distinguished  ornament  to 
it — in  time/'  said  his  lordship  dryly. 

"  I'm  thinking  it's  a  geyan  kittle  trade  though  ; 
but  I'll  ettle  my  best/'  replied  Andrew,  none  dis- 
concerted. 

"But,"  resumed  the  earl,  "what  do  you  think 
of  London  ?  " 

"  Poo  !  "  cried  the  clerk  :  "  London  !  a  wheen 
brick  houses.  O  man,  if  ye  could  but  see  Glascow 
and  Edinburgh  !  There  you  would  see  some- 
thing. Look  at  Holyrood  House  :  that's  a  palace 
for  you  ;  but  St  James's  here, — it's  just  like  an 
auld  to'booth.  But,  sir,  ye'll  hae  to  gae  awa', 
for  it's  the  time  for  me  to  gang  for  my  dinner, 
that  I  may  be  back  to  keep  the  house  ; — and  I 
hae  a  notion  your  business  is  no  very  particular 
the  day." 

"It  certainly,"  said  his  lordship,  "will  keep  to 
another  dav.  But  where  do  voti  dine?" 

"At  a  very  creditable  house,  sir:  the  Cale- 
donian, in  a  neighbour  street." 

"  And  how  much  mav  you  pay  ?  "  inquired  his 
lordship,  with  unaffected  curiosity,  prompted  by 
an  interest  which  he  began  to  take  in  this 
original. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  8? 

"Sevenpence,  and  a  bawbee  to  the  laddie," 
replied  Andrew. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  exclaimed  the  earl,  touched 
with  a  sentiment  of  compassion,  never  having  by 
any  accident  before  heard  at  what  rates  the  humble 
and  industrious  youth  of  the  vast  metropolis  are 
obliged  to  live. 

"Ay,  it's  awfu'  dear,"  said  Andrew,  mistaking 
the  cause  of  his  lordship's  astonishment,  "  but  the 
victual's  good ; "  adding,  "  It's  a  hard  thing,  sir, 
to  live  in  London.  Some  take  a  mutchkin  of 
porter  to  their  dinner,  but  I  sloken  my  drowth 1 
wi'  Adam's  wine." 

"  I  presume,  then,  that  you  do  not  allow  your- 
self much  indulgence  in  public  amusements  ? " 
said  his  lordship. 

"  As  to  that,"  replied  Andrew,  "  I  take  my 
share ;  for  the  singers  are  far  better  than  ours, — 
indeed,  they  hae  tunes  and  voices  like  leddies 
and  gentlemen.  But,  sir,  it's  no  canny  to  gang 
near  them  ;  for  nae  further  gane  than  yestreen — • 
last  night  ye  ken, — -when  I  was  harkening  to  twa 
singing  like  nightingales  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Square, 
a  ne'er-do-weel  pocket-picker  whuppet 2  the 
napkin  out  of  my  pouch,  wi'  the  slippery  hand 
o'  an  evil  spirit,  before  I  kent  whar  I  was.  Od, 
sir,  but  there's  a  terrible  power  o'  ill-doers  about 
London  ! " 

"Oil,  I  understand  !     You  mean  by  the  public 

1  Klnkcn  my  drnwih.     Quench  my  thirst. 
-  Whuppet.     Whipped. 


88  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

amusements,  listening  to  the  ballad-singers  in  the 
street/'  said  the  earl,  drolling. 

"  I  can  assure  you/'  replied  Andrew,  "  they 
werena  like  ballad-singers  at  a'  ;  and  it's  my 
notion  they  were  playactors  out  o'  bread." 

"  Have  you  been  at  the  theatres  ? "  said  his 
lordship. 

"  Xo  yet ;  but  I'm  gaun.  Our  clerks  are  to 
treat  me  some  night  soon ;  and  they  say — they  a* 
say — that  I'll  see — Gude  kens  what  I'll  no  see  ! 
But  it  maun  be  something  vera  extraordinar,  for 
they're  just  out  the  body  about  catching  the  effec, 
as  they  ca't.  However,  effecs  here  or  effecs  there, 
it's  no  right  o'  you,  sir,  to  keep  me  clishma- 
clavering l  when  I  should  be  taking  my  pick, 
that  the  master's  wark  mayna  gae  by." 

The  earl  admitted  the  justness  of  the  observa- 
tion ;  and,  perceiving  the  roguery  at  the  bottom 
of  the  intended  treat  on  the  part  of  the  other 
clerks,  became  desirous  himself  to  enjoy  some  of 
the  virgin  fancies  of  Andrew.  He  therefore  pre- 
tended that,  as  he  had  not  found  Mr  Vellum,  he 
would  write  a  note  for  him. 

Being  furnished  accordingly  with  the  neces- 
sary implements,  lie  requested  the  solicitor  that 
Andrew  might  be  sent  to  a  particular  coffee- 
house at  eleven  o'clock  that  evening,  with  a 
letter  for  Servinal,  his  valet,  who  would  be  there 
to  meet  him  ;  and  (that  Mr  Vellum  might  have 
some  idea  of  the  object  of  this  singular  request) 
1  Clishmaclavcriny.  In  idle  discourse. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  8.9 

he  added,  "The  countess  receives  masks;  but 
your  clerk  can  take  a  part  without  any  disguise." 

"Now/'  said  his  lordship  to  Andrew,  as  he 
folded  up  the  lettei',  "this  relates  to  a  matter 
on  which  my  heart  is  much  set,  and  I  rely  upon 
your  fidelity  in  placing  it  safe  in  Mr  Vellum's 
own  hand." 

"That  ye  may  do,  and  sleep  sound  upon't," 
was  the  answer ;  "  for  be  he  living,  or  be  he 
dead,  I  will  see  him ;  and  I  wouklna  that  a  thing 
gi'en  to  me  in  the  way  of  trust  was  mislippeiit 1 — 
no,  though  I  was  to  die  on  the  spot.  But,  oh,  sir, 
really,  I'm  growing  uneasy  ;  for  if  I  dinna  get  my 
dinner  noo,  thae  deevils,  our  clerks,  will  be  back, 
and  if  they  fin'  out  that  I'm  toom,2  they'll  fish 
to  famish  me.  It  would,  therefore,  sir,  be  very 
obliging,  if  ye  hae  done  your  pleasure  and  needs, 
to  gae  quietly  awa',  and  let  me  riii  for  my  bit 
chack  o'  dinner." 

The  good-humour  of  the  earl,  perhaps  we  ought 
to  add  his  habitual  politeness,  could  not  withstand 
the  reiterated  urgency  of  this  appeal,  and  accord- 
ingly he  withdrew,  renewing  his  injunctions  for 
the  careful  delivery  of  the  letter.  But  this  was 
unnecessary  :  Andrew  was  fully  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  letters  addressed  by  clients  to 
their  solicitors,  and  well  aware  that  his  future 
success  in  life  depended  quite  as  much  on  his 
integrity  as  upon  any  other  quality. 

1  Mixlippcnt.     Neglected.  2  Toom.     Empty. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

A  Masquerade. 

>V  HEN  Andrew  came  back  after  dining,  Mr 
Vellum,  who  had  been  all  the  forenoon  in.  West- 
minster Hall,  was  in  the  office ;  and  on  reading 
the  earl's  epistle,  which  our  hero  faithfully  de- 
livered into  his  own  hands,  he  was  not  a  little 
diverted  by  its  contents. 

"Did  the  gentleman,"  said  he,  "tell  you  who 
he  was  ?  " 

" I  never  speert," 1  replied  Andrew;  "but 
surely  he  would  put  his  name  to  the  letter." 

"  Oh  yes  ;  but  I  cannot  imagine  what  lias  in- 
duced him  to  write  to  me  on  such  a  subject." 

"  He  maun  answer  for  that  himsel',"  said 
Andrew  ;  "  but  he  seemed  very  particular.  It's 
surely  something  very  particular,  sir,  for  lie  stayed 
so  lang,  and  asked  so  many  questions,  that  1  was 
obligated  to  tell  him  to  gang  awa' 

"  But  what  sort  of  man  did  you  find  him  ?  " 

"  I'm  thinking/'  replied  Andrew,  "  that  he's 
something  in  the  perfoomery  line,  for  lie  had  a 
fine  scented  pocket-napkin,  and  was  wondrous 


A  MASQUERADE  <)] 

perjink  in  his  words — a'  on  chandler  pins ;  and 
baith  in  shape  and  habit  he  was  a  slimmer l  piece 
of  genteelity." 

"  I  hope/'  said  the  solicitor,  "  that  you  treated 
him  with  all  due  respect,  for  he  was  no  other 
than  the  Earl  of  Sandyford." 

"  Oh,  Mr  Vellum,  what  a  stupid  fool  fallow  he 
maun  hae  thought  I  was — a  yearl !  Me  speaking 
in  the  way  I  did  to  him,  and  he  a'  the  time  a 
yearl  !  Howsoever,  he  canna  hae't  to  say  that  I 
neglected  his  business,  or  didna  mind  yours,  and 
I'll  mak  up  for't  to  him  in  decorum  at  another 
time." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Mr  Vellum  jocularly.  "  But 
I  have  something  particularly  for  you  to  do  this 
evening.  You  will  take  a  letter  from  me  to 
one  Mr  Servinal,  as  directed  :  he  is  a  civil  man, 
and  I  have  particular  reasons  for  wishing  you 
to  become  acquainted  with  him.  I  need  not  say 
more  than  that  you  Avill  endeavour  to  make  your- 
self agreeable  to  him." 

"  If  it's  for  your  interest,  sir,"  replied  Andrew, 
"ye  need  hae  nae  fear  o'  that.  But  eleven 
o'clock  is  an  awful  time  o'  night  to  be  seeking 
nfter  onv  honest  business." 

"True,"  said  Mr  Vellum  ;  "but,  in  our  profes- 
sion, all  hours  and  times  must  be  at  the  com- 
mand of  our  clients." 

"Say  nae  mair,  say  nac  mair ;  by  night  or 
by  day,  Mr  Vellum,  I'll  try  to  do  my  part," 


92  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

replied  Andrew  ;    and   in    this   manner   the   pre- 
lude for  the  evening  was  arranged. 

At  the  time  appointed,  the  valet  was  at  his 
post,  and  had  not  to  wait  long  for  our  hero. 
Servinal  had  been  duly  instructed  by  his  master ; 
and  accordingly,  after  some  conversation,  con- 
taining a  number  of  apparent  facts  arid  evidential 
circumstances  which  Andrew  was  to  relate,  with 
all  proper  fidelity,  to  Mr  Vellum,  Servinal  pro- 
posed an  adjournment  to  the  playhouse,  under 
the  tempting  pretext  that,  being  acquainted  with 
the  doorkeepers,  he  could  get  them  both  in*, 
free  at  that  hour.  To  this  our  hero  could  make 
no  possible  objection ;  on  the  contrary,  he  con- 
sidered his  assent  to  the  proposal  as  in  strict 
conformity  to  the  instructions  he  had  received  to 
make  himself  agreeable  to  so  important  a  client 
as  the  valet  appeared  to  be.  A  coach  was  there- 
upon called,  and  they  were  speedily  at  Sandyford 
House. 

On  reaching  the  precincts  of  the  mansion, 
Andrew  had  no  reason  to  doubt  that  he  was 
approaching  one  of  the  principal  theatres.  The 
square  was  thronged  with  carriages ;  a  multitude 
of  curious  spectators,  to  see  the  company  as  they 
were  set  down,  occupied  the  pavement ;  and  the 
vestibule  was  filled  witli  a  countless  host  of  ser- 
vants in  livery, — the  domestics  of  the  guests,  and 
friends  of  the  domestics. 

The  carl  had  instructed  Servinal,  in  order 
that  Andrew  might  not  be  exposed  to  the  in- 


A  MASQUERADE  93 

solent  impertinence  of  the  menials,  to  take  care 
that  it  should  not  be  known  among  them  he 
was  not  in  character  ;  so  that,  when  he  entered 
the  hall  with  his  rustic  garb  and  awkward 
manner,  they  set  him  down  as  Freelove  in  the 
character  of  Jemmy,  in  the  farce  of  High  Life 
Below  Stairs,  and  the  sincere  astonishment  with 
which  he  gazed  around  excited  their  unanimous 
admiration  and  plaudits  as  an  incomparable  per- 
former. 

Andrew  clung  to  his  companion  in  a  degree 
of  delighted  alarm,  saying  involuntarily,  as  he 
was  conducted  up  the  grand  staircase  to  the 
state  apartments,  where  the  company  were  assem- 
bling, "What  a  beautiful  house  this  is  !  Odsake, 
man,  it's  as  grand  as  Solomon's  temple." 

"  Were  you  ever  there  ? "  said  a  mask  in  a 
domino  in  passing.  Andrew  instantly  recognised 
a  voice  that  he  had  heard  before,  and  was 
petrified.  It  was  the  earl,  at  whose  appearance 
Servinal  immediately  withdrew,  telling  our  hero 
that  he  was  now  free  to  go  everywhere,  and  pick 
up  what  amusement  he  could  for  the  remainder 
of  the  evening. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  freedom  which  the 
belief  that  he  was  in  a  place  of  public  amuse- 
ment was  calculated  to  inspire,  Andrew  shyly 
entered  the  central  salon,  from  which  the  drawing- 
rooms  opened.  A  party  in  mask,  writh  the  earl 
at  their  head,  followed  him.  He  thought,  how- 
ever, that  they  were  the  players — the  hirelings 


94  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

of  the  entertainment — ,  and  expected  them  to 
tumble,  and  perform  other  antic  feats  of  cor- 
poreal ingenuity. 

While  under  this  misconception  of  his  situa- 
tion, just  within  the  door  of  the  salon,  with 
his  back  leaning  on  the  pedestal  of  a  statue 
of  Terpsichore,  the  well-fleshed  Countess  of 
Gorbilands,  in  the  character  of  Lady  Rodolpha 
Lumbercourt,  came  up  to  him  Her  ladyship 
had  not  the  most  remote  idea  that  he  was  not 
in  character.  Being  herself  a  Scotchwoman,  she 
imagined  from  his  dress  that  he  had  taken  the 
part  of  a  Scottish  lad,  and  addressed  him  accord- 
ingly, imitating  the  rattle  of  Lady  Rodolpha  with 
considerable  humour. 

Andrew,  however,  was  disconcerted  by  what 
he  considered  her  impudence,  and  said,  "  Gang 
about  your  business,  woman,  and  no  fash  me. 
I'll  hae  naething  to  say  to  you  :  I  tell  you, 
woman,  ye  may  just  whistle  on  your  thumb." 

"  The  brute  ! "  exclaimed  the  countess,  forget- 
ting her  part.  "  How  can  he  have  got  into  the 
house  ?  He  has  no  character." 

"  I'm  thinking,"  said  Andrew,  dryly,  "  that  I 
hae  a  muckle  better  character  than  you." 

Her  ladyship  was  amazed,  and  returned  to  her 
party,  utterly  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  pheno- 
menon. 

At  this  moment,  Colonel  Coleson,  in  the  char- 
acter of  Moll  Flagon,  came  up,  amidst  shouts 
of  laughter,  exclaiming,  "Where  is  he — where 


A  MASQUERADE  95 

is  the  gay  deceiver  ? "  presenting  Andrew  at 
the  same  moment  with  her  pocket-pistol,  a/uix 
brandy-bottle. 

Our  hero  looked  at  Moll  for  about  half  a 
minute  with  the  most  unequivocal  marks  of  aver- 
sion. At  last  he  said,  "  I  wonder  how  the  door- 
keepers could  let  sic  a  tinkler  in  !  " 

"Does  he  disown  me?"  exclaimed  Moll,  in 
a  rapture  of  desperation.  "Will  the  perjured 
wretch  cast  me  off  from  his  tender  embraces  in 
the  face  of  the  whole  world  ?  "  And  she  began 
to  weep  bitterly,  wiping  her  eyes  with  the  corner 
of  her  tattered  shawl,  and  taking  a  sip  from  her 
bottle  with  infinite  humour. 

"The  woman's  fou,"  said  Andrew  coolly  to  the 
bystanders  ;  and  walked  away  somewhat  anxiously 
to  shun  her. 

"See  how  he  deserts  me,"  cried  the  obstre- 
perous Moll ;  "  he  abandons  me  like  the  rest  of 
his  faithless  sex — the  cruel  gay  deceiver  !  " 

Andrew,  terrified  by  the  vehemence  of  Moll's 
manner,  turned  back  to  reason  with  her,  and  said, 
"  Honest  woman,  ye're  in  a  mistake." 

The  unaffected  simplicity  of  this  address  was 
too  much  even  for  Coleson,  with  all  his  confi- 
dence ;  and,  regardless  of  the  proprieties  of  his 
part,  he  joined  in  the  general  laughter  that  it 
called  forth  from  all  present. 

Poor  Andrew  then  appealed  to  the  spectators, 
and  assured  them,  with  the  most  perfect  sincerity, 
that  he  had  never  seen  the  woman  before  since 


96  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

he  was  born.  "She's  Just  a  randy,"  said  he, 
"and  ought  to  be  set  in  the  jougs."  1 

"  What's  the  matter — what's  the  to-do  here  ?  " 
cried  a  Justice  Woodcock.  "  What  are  ye  after  ? 
Tramp,  madam  ;  and  as  for  you,  sir,  take  your- 
self off." 

Andrew  would  have  walked  away  rebuked,  but 
Moll  took  hold  of  the  seeming  magistrate  by 
the  coat-tail,  exclaiming,  "  Is  this  a  proper  treat- 
ment of  the  fair  sex,  Justice  Woodcock  ?  I 
thought  you  had  been  a  better  man  in  your 
day  than  to  see  a  poor  innocent  girl,  that  had 
nothing  but  her  virtue,  so  wronged  by  such  a 
cruel,  a  perfidious,  a  base,  and  wicked,  wicked 
man." 

"  Poor  Molly  !  and  what  has  he  done  to  you  ?  " 
said  the  Justice. 

"  What  has  he  done  ?  "  exclaimed  Molly,  start- 
ing from  out  her  tears.  "  He  has  undone  me  ?  " 

Andrew  was  thunderstruck,  and  looked  around 
in  despair  ;  but  saw  no  friendly  visage.  In  the 
same  moment  Moll  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  and, 
pulling  out  his  watch,  cried,  "This  at  least  will 
procure  me  some  comfort."  And  in  putting  the 
watch  into  her  pocket,  she  took  out  her  bottle, 
and  indulged  in  another  sip. 

"Softly,  Moll,"  said  Justice  Woodcock,  "you 
must  give  me  the  watch." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Andrew,  in  a  long  and  vibrating 
.tone  of  horror  ;  but  suddenly  mustering  courage 
1  Jougs.  Xotc  C. 


A  MASQUERADE  97 

he  exclaimed,  "  As  sure  as  death,  sir,  this  is  as 
big  a  lie  as  ever  duty  himself  cleckit.1  Only 
send  for  my  master,  Mr  Vellum,  and  he'll  testi- 
ficate  that  I'm  a  poor  honest  lad,  of  creditable 
parentage,  just  come  frae  Scotland.  Oh,  what  had 
I  to  do  here  !  Gie  me  my  watch,  I  tell  you — 
gie  me  my  watch — thieves,  thieves  !" 

The  earnest  vigour  of  lungs  with  which  he 
uttered  this  exclamation  resounded  through  all 
the  splendid  chambers,  and  the  whole  music  and 
merriment  was  in  a  moment  silenced  by  the 
alarm.  Andrew,  in  the  same  instant,  snatched 
the  watch  from  Moll,  who  was  then  in  the  act 
of  handing  it  to  the  Justice,  and  flying  off  amidst 
a  universal  cataract  of  laughter  never  looked 
behind  till  he  was  out  of  breath,  and  safe  in  the 
street. 

i  duty  .  .  .  cleckit.     Devil  .  .  .  hatched. 


VOL.  I. 


CHAPTER    XV 

An  Invitation. 


home  to  his  lodgings  with  the 
expedition  of  a  delinquent  flying  from  justice, 
Andrew  was  undressed,  and  over  head  and  ears 
among  the  bed-clothes,  before  he  made  any 
attempt  to  rally  his  scattered  senses.  In  this 
situation  he  soon  became  more  composed,  and 
began  to  think  that  he  had  perhaps  been  sub- 
jected to  the  influence  of  some  delusion.  He 
had  heard  of  Johnny  Fa  and  Lord  Cassillis'  lady, 
and  of  mountebanks  casting  glamour  in  the  eyes 
of  their  spectators,  by  which  blue-bottle  flies, 
with  pins  at  their  tails,  are  made  to  appear  in  the 
shape  of  gamecocks  drawing  logs  of  timber  ;  and 
he  was  not  sure  but  that  some  such  sleight  of 
magic  had  been  practised  by  the  players  on 
himself.  This  first  effort  of  returning  reason, 
as  his  agitation  subsided,  was  succeeded  by  a 
still  more  rational  conclusion,  —  no  less  than 
that  really  he  did  not  know  where  he  had  been, 
and,  therefore,  it  would  be  as  well  for  him  to 
say  nothing  of  his  adventure  next  morning  to 
the  other  clerks  in  the  office.  And  with  this 


AN  INVITATION  99 

prudent  determination,  he  said  his  prayers  and 
fell  asleep. 

But  although  he  had  resolved  to  be  silent, 
he  could  not  divest  himself  of  a  certain  inde- 
scribable feeling  of  anxiety  and  apprehension 
when  he  went  to  the  desk  in  the  morning. 
He  sat  down  without  saying  a  word,  and  wrote 
on  with  more  than  his  wonted  assiduity,  while 
his  companions  were  recounting  to  each  other 
their  exploits  and  '  gallantries,  and  strong-ale 
debaucheries  at  the  Coalhole  and  Finish,  after 
the  play. 

When  Mr  Vellum  entered  the  office,  the  sound 
of  his  tread  was  echoed  by  the  beating  of 
Andrew's  heart ;  and  a  sensation  of  fear,  almost 
as  painful  as  the  terrors  of  suspected  guilt,  took 
possession  of  our  "hero's  whole  mind  as  that 
gentleman  said  to  him  dryly,  "  Well,  Wylie,  did 
you  see  Mr  Servinal  last  night  ?  " 

"  A  genteel  man  answered  to  his  name,"  replied 
Andrew,  "and  I  gave  him  the  letter." 

"  Had  you  any  conversation  with  him  ?  "  in- 
quired the  solicitor,  amused  at  the  dexterity  of 
Andrew's  evasion,  and  interested  by  his  evident 
embarrassment. 

"  A  great  deal,"  said  our  hero  briskly ;  and 
then  he  faithfully  recounted  the  whole  of  what 
he  conceived  to  be  the  business  part  of  the  con- 
versation. 

Vellum  commended  his  attention  and  memory, 
and  added,  "  Did  you  stop  long  with  him  ?  " 


100  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  We  were  not  a  great  while  thegither,"  replied 
Andrew  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  hope  he  did  not  detain  you  long ;  for  I  do 
not  choose  that  my  young  men  should  keep  late 
hours." 

"  It  will  be  my  endeavour  to  satisfy  you,  sir, 
in  that  particular,  for  I'm  no  fond  of  late  hours 
mysel' :  they  are  very  bad  things,"  said  our  hero, 
morally. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  master;  "and  London  is  so 
full  of  temptations  to  youth  and  inexperience." 

"  It's  an  awful  place,"  was  the  emphatic  answer. 

"  But  you  got  safe  home  after  parting  from  the 
gentleman  ?  "  said  Mr  Vellum. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Andrew  with  a  nod,  as  if  he 
spoke  inwardly  :  "ay,  I  got  safe  home." 

The  solicitor  could  writh  difficulty  keep  his 
gravity  ;  but,  after  a  momentary  pause,  he  looked 
sharply  at  our  hero,  and  then,  in  a  jocular  tone, 
said,  "  I  suspect,  Wylie,  you  were  engaged  in 
some  adventure  last  night." 

"  I  fancy  everybody  may  meet  wi'  as  meikle, 
and  do  nae  wrang  either,"  was  the  answer  to  this 
home  question. 

"  Then  you  did  meet  with  something  ?  "  said 
his  master. 

"  I  canna,  without  a  lie,  say  I  met  wi'  nae- 
thing." 

"  But  what  was  it  ? "  inquired  the  solicitor, 
with  an  affected  tone  of  impatience. 

"  I'm  sure,  sir,  that's  no  an  easy   question  to 


AN  INVITATION  101 

answer ;  for  ye  ken  I'm  but  a  new-come  stranger 
in  London,  and  a's  no  ill  that's  ill-like." 

"  Then  I  presume  that  what  you  met  with  was 
something  you  thought  strange  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say/'  replied  Andrew,  "  it  may  no  be 
strange  here." 

"  It  is  very  extraordinary  that  you  refuse  to  tell 
me  what  it  was." 

"  Me  refuse,  sir  ! "  exclaimed  Andrew ;  "  I'm 
sure  I  never  refused/' 

"  Then  Avhy  don't  you  satisfy  me  ?  " 

"  It's  baith  my  earnest  wish  and  interest,  sir, 
to  gie  you  the  fullest  satisfaction  in  my  power," 
replied  our  hero  ;  and  he  looked  at  his  master  with 
such  an  air  of  simplicity  that  Vellum  was  utterly 
at  a  loss  whether  to  set  him  down  as  a  knave  or 
a  fool.  At  this  moment  one  of  Lord  Sandyford's 
servants  entered,  with  a  card  from  his  lordship, 
requesting  Mr  Wylie's  company  to  dinner  that 
day.  Andrew  was  petrified  :  he  grew  as  pale  as 
ashes,  and  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  totally 
incapable  of  comprehending  the  mystery  of  this 
device.  Vellum  smiled,  and  said,  "  I  hope  you  are 
not  engaged,  and  that  you  can  oblige  his  lordship." 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure,"  cried  our  hero,  panting,  "  I'll 
do  onything  in  the  world  to  oblige  my  lord  !  " 

The  footman  was  accordingly  dismissed  with 
a  card  to  the  earl,  accepting  of  the  invitation. 
"  You  are  a  fortunate  youth,"  said  Mr  Vellum, 
"  to  have  made  so  early  such  an  enviable  ac- 
quaintance." 


102  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  But,  sir,"  interrupted  Andrew,  "  what  will 
I  do,  for  I  hae  na  claes  fit  for  my  lord's 
company  ?  " 

"Take  my  advice,"  said  his  master  gravely, 
and  with  sincerity ;  "  make  no  change  in  your 
appearance,  but  only  be  careful  that  you  are 
particularly  clean  and  neat." 

Mr  Vellum  was  more  in  the  secret  of  his 
adventure  the  preceding  evening  than  he  pre- 
tended. In  fact,  the  solicitor  himself  had  been 
at  the  masquerade,  and  partook  of  the  merriment 
which  "the  incomparable  unknown"  occasioned 
(as  The  Morning  Post  called  Andrew  in  describing 
the  entertainment,  for  the  purpose  of  advertising 
the  savoury  merits  of  the  cook  and  confectioner 
who  provided  the  supper). 

In  resuming  his  duty  at  the  desk,  Andrew 
marvelled,  as  he  copied,  on  the  singularity  of 
having  received  an  invitation  to  dine  with  an 
earl ;  and  he  was  shrewd  enough  to  guess  that 
it  could  neither  be  on  account  of  his  learning, 
his  rank,  nor  the  fashion  of  his  appearance. 

The  invitation  which  Andrew  had  received 
from  the  earl  was  soon  known  among  the  other 
clerks,  and  their  first  notion  led  them  to 
fancy  that  he  was  related  to  his  lordship  ;  they 
began,  in  consequence,  to  think  he  was  not, 
after  all,  the  mean  sort  of  half-witted  creature 
which  they  had  hitherto  thought  him,  but  an 
eccentric  and  original  character.  This  idea  re- 
ceived something  like  confirmation  when,  one 


AN  INVITATION  103 

of  them  inquiring  in  what  degree  of  relation- 
ship he  stood  with  the  earl,  Andrew  dryly 
replied,  "  Really  I  canna  say ;  but  I  believe 
we're  sprung  of  the  same  stock."  Some  of  the 
more  knowing,  however,  began  to  suspect  that 
it  possibly  might  be  on  account  of  his  odd  and 
singular  appearance,  and  that  his  lordship,  in 
conferring  the  honour  of  the  invitation,  slyly 
intended  to  amuse  his  own  friends  by  showing 
off  the  curiosity, — a  shrewd  suspicion,  character- 
istic of  that  precocious  knowledge  of  the  world 
which  is  one  of  the  chief,  if  not  the  very  chief 
itself,  of  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  metropolitan 
youth,  especially  of  that  sharp  and  pert  tribe 
of  them  who,  like  the  imps  that  infest  the  road 
leading  to  Paradise,  chatter,  frisk,  and  flutter  in 
the  avenues  to  the  tribunals  of  justice. 


CHAPTER    XVI 
A  Dinner-Party 

.A.NDREW,  naving  provided  himself  with  the 
address  of  Sandyford  House,  was  at  the  door 
as  punctually  as  the  clock  went  the  hour.  The 
knocker,  at  that  moment,  seemed  to  him  too 
ponderous  for  his  hands  to  raise,  and,  after 
pausing  for  about  half  a  minute  to  recover 
courage,  he  tapped  Avith  his  knuckle  to  announce 
his  claim  for  admission.  The  porter,  a  saucy 
corpulent  fellow,  opened,  and  demanded  what  he 
wanted.  "  I  am  come  to  get  my  dinner  with 
my  lord,"  was  the  reply.  The  corner  of  John 
Swell's  lips  crooked  of  their  own  accord  down- 
ward into  an  expression  of  ineffable  contempt 
and  exclusion,  when,  fortunately,  the  footman 
who  had  carried  the  invitation  to  Vellum's  hap- 
pened to  come  into  the  hall,  and,  recognising 
our  hero,  conducted  him  upstairs  to  the  drawing- 
room  where  the  other  guests,  with  the  earl  and 
countess,  were  waiting  in  expectation  of  his 
approach. 

Andrew    was    agitated    and    confused ;    but    in 

ascending  the  stairs  he  recovered  sufficient  pre- 
104 


A  DINNER-PARTY  105 

sence  of  mind  to  enable  him  to  observe  that 
the  house  was  the  same  which  on  the  preceding 
night  he  had  believed  was  one  of  the  theatres ; 
and  the  idea  suddenly  flashed  upon  him  that 
he  owed  the  honour  of  the  invitation  to  the 
simplicity  of  his  Scottish  manners  and  appear- 
ance. The  servant  who  showed  him  the  way 
had  observed  his  confusion,  and  when  Andrew 
paused,  as  this  notion  came  across  his  mind,  he 
conceived  him  to  be'  overwhelmed  with  diffidence, 
and  stopped  also,  with  a  sneer,  being  aware  of 
the  motives  which  had  induced  his  master  to 
invite  him  to  dinner.  But  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion set  all  things  right  with  our  hero,  and  he 
seemed,  to  the  saucy  valet,  to  undergo  a  mar- 
vellous transmutation  from  an  awkward  vulgar 
boy  into  an  easy  and  confident  gentleman.  He 
advanced  towards  the  door  of  the  drawing-room 
with  as  light  a  step  and  as  cheerful  a  counte- 
nance as  he  ever  wore  approaching  the  cottage 
of  his  schoolmaster  with  the  chat  and  jokes  of 
the  village,  and  was  ushered  into  the  splendid 
company  without  feeling  the  slightest  embarrass- 
ment ;  on  the  contrary,  he  went  forward  in  that 
agreeable  state  of  self-possession  which  a  man 
feels  when  he  knows  it  is  in  his  power  to  dis- 
pense pleasure.  Lord  Sandyford,  who  possessed 
an  acute  perception  of  the  latent  powers  of 
character,  perceived,  by  the  change,  on  the  in- 
stant he  threw  his  eyes  on  him  as  the  door 
opened,  that  he  was  not  the  entire  simple  oddity 


IOC  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

which  he  had  at  first  imagined,  and  immediately 
went  towards  him  and  shook  him  by  the  hand 
in  a  manner  that  raised  him  at  once,  as  it  were, 
into  the  equality  and  footing  of  a  friend. 

"  Mr  Wylie,"  said  his  lordship,  "  I  ought  to 
apologise  for  the  freedom  which  I  have  taken 
with  you." 

"  Say  nae  mair  about  it,  my  lord,"  interrupted 
Andrew :  "  I  maun  pay  for  my  experience  of 
the  world  as  weel  as  my  betters ;  but  it  was 
an  awfu'  thing  though." 

This  simple  reply  was  received  as  original 
humour,  and  much  amused  the  high-bred  as- 
semblage, by  both  its  gusto  and  familiarity.  Sir 
Timothy  Knicketty,  the  connoisseur,  who  was 
of  the  party,  declared  it  was  truly  u  la  Tenters. 

When  they  had  descended  to  the  dining-room, 
the  ladies  were  particularly  anxious  to  share  our 
hero  among  them ;  but  he  put  an  end  to  the 
controversy  by  taking  the  seat  of  honour  between 
the  Duchess  of  Dashingwell  and  the  countess, 
who,  independent  of  their  rank,  were  the  two 
finest  women  in  the  room.  Her  grace  was  a 
blithe,  open-tempered  character,  that  could  carry 
a  joke  as  great  a  length  as  any  lady  of  her  class. 

During  dinner,  nothing  for  some  time  par- 
ticularly occurred.  Andrew,  with  a  quick  and 
cunning  eye,  observed  the  etiquettes  of  the  table 
as  they  were  performed  by  others,  and  acquitted 
himself  without  committing  any  extraordinary 
breach  of  the  wonted  ceremonials  :  in  this  re- 


A  DINNER-PARTY  107 

spect  he  was,  indeed,  superior  to  many  a  scion 
of  nobility  from  Eton  or  Oxford.  The  Duchess 

of  D led  him  on  in  conversation,  and  lie  said 

a  number  of  droll  and  naif  things,  which  were 
received  as  bon-mots  of  the  most  racy  flavour. 
Peals  of  laughter  bore  testimony  to  all  the  house 
with  what  success  he  sustained  his  character, 
and  as  the  wine  mounted  his  confidence  rose. 
Before  the  end  of  the  second  course  he  was  in 
high  glee,  and  perfectly  at  his  ease ;  insomuch 
that  the  very  servants  in  attendance  could  with 
difficulty  maintain  the  requisite  taciturn  decorum 
of  their  office.  But  all  restraint  of  duty,  place, 
and  circumstance,  were  in  the  end  overwhelmed 
when,  in  reply  to  an  invitation  from  her  grace 
to  take  wine  with  her,  he  exclaimed,  "  Na,  leddies, 
if  ye  gar  me  drink  at  this  rate,  the  wine  will 
be  running  in  my  head,  and  I'll  be  kittling  you 
till  ye  keckle  1  or  a's  done  ;  so  look  to  the  con- 
sequences." 

Lord  Sandyford  enjoyed  the  scene  with  a  relish 
to  which  he  had  long  been  a  stranger ;  but  the 
countess  was  the  least  affected  of  the  whole 
party  by  the  simplicity  or  the  art  of  Andrew. 
Her  ladyship,  however,  maintained  throughout 
the  evening  a  graceful  propriety  that  admirably 
became  her  station.  She  seldom  condescended 
to  laugh ;  still,  at  times,  a  pleasant,  ringing, 
cheerful  sound  came  from  her  heart,  that  showed 

1  Kittling  you  till  yc  keckle.     Tickling  you  until  you  laugh 


108  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

she  could  enjoy  the  pleasantries  of  life  as  jocundly 
as  her  neighbours.  On  these  occasions  her  lord 
would  look  at  her  as  if  startled  by  some  unex- 
pected note  of  pleasure ;  but  in  a  moment  her 
hilarity  was  suppressed,  and  she  was  as  cold  and 
formal  as  before. 

The  evening's  entertainment  had,  however, 
generally  the  effect  of  inspiring  the  earl  with  a 
grateful  feeling  towards  Andrew  ;  for  it  is  one  of 
the  blessed  consequences  of  hearty  laughter  to 
stir  into  action  all  the  kindly  humours  of  the 
mind  ;  and  his  lordship  determined  to  have  him 
for  his  frequent  guest.  The  rest  of  the  company, 

particularly  the  Duchess  of  D ,  was  scarcely 

less  delighted  with  his  eccentricities ;  and  when, 
after  returning  to  the  drawing-room,  she  per- 
suaded him  to  sing,  he  fairly  won  her  heart,  and 
was  chosen  a  regular  invitant  to  all  her  parties 
for  the  winter.  Indeed,  to  do  him  justice,  in  the 
choice  of  his  song  he  displayed  equal  taste  and 
judgment,  and  the  execution  was  worthy  of  the 
choice.  His  song  was  that  ludicrous  enumera- 
tion of  goods  and  chattels,  beginning  with  "  My 
father  wi'  his  deeing  breath,"  in  the  performance 
of  which,  flushed  with  the  Tuscan,  he  addressed 
himself  so  eagerly  to  her  grace,  snapping  his 
fingers  with  exultation,  and  nodding  and  winking, 
that  she  was  obliged  to  throw  herself  on  a  sofa, 
holding  both  her  sides,  exclaiming,  "  For  the  love 
of  heaven,  stop  him — stop  him,  or  I  shall  die  !" 

The    sagacity    with    which    Andrew    had    thus 


A  DINNER-PARTY  109 

improved  the  first  impression  of  his  peculiarities 
taught  him  instinctively  to  choose  that  happy 
moment  for  taking  leave  when  the  effect  he  had 
produced  was  liveliest.  At  the  end  of  his  song 
he  accordingly  sprang  away,  as  if  he  had  suddenly 
recollected  himself,  crying,  "  Megsty  me,  what 
am  I  about ;  daffing 1  till  this  time  here,  when  I 
hae  got  a  codicil  to  copy  to  a  dying  man's  last 
will  and  testament ! "  And  with  that,  giving  a 
ludicrous  nod  for  a  bow,  he  ran  downstairs,  and 
hastened  home. 

1  Duffing.     Frolicking. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

Borrowing. 

JL  HE  first  winter  thus  passed  with  our  hero  in  a 
manner  that  most  young  men  would  have  deemed 
enviable,  and  the  prudent  regarded  as  fraught 
with  danger  to  his  future  fortune  ;  but  his  sim- 
plicity remained  invincible  to  the  blandishments 
of  pleasure,  and  the  sterling  worth  of  his  innate 
character  raised  him  more  and  more  in  the  esti- 
mation of  Lord  Sandyford. 

One  morning,  on  going  to  chambers,  he  found 
Mr  Vellum  thoughtful  and  vexed.  He  had  been, 
on  the  preceding  evening,  engaged  witli  money- 
lenders, relative  to  an  additional  mortgage  which 
was  immediately  required  for  the  earl,  and  the 
negotiation  had  not  been  satisfactory.  The 
money  was  obtained  ;  but  on  such  terms  that  he 
was  almost  afraid  to  communicate  them  to  his 
lordship :  not  that  he  had  any  reason,  from  his 
experience  of  the  earl's  disposition  and  temper,  to 
apprehend  that  his  lordship  would  trouble  himself 
for  a  moment  on  the  subject ;  but  he  felt,  as  a 
man  of  business,  that  he  had  not  been  so  happy 
iu  his  management  as  on  other  similar  occasions. 

110 


BORROWING  1 1 1 

After  sitting  some  time,  turning  over  the  memo- 
randa of  the  transaction,  and  casting  about  in  his 
thoughts  for  what  he  should  say  to  the  earl,  he 
happened  to  look  towards  the  desk  where  Andrew 
was  earnestly  employed  at  his  vocation,  his  little 
round  smooth-haired  head  following  his  pen  as  if 
it  was  slowly  rolling  on  the  paper  ;  and  it  occurred 
to  him  that  perhaps  no  fitter  envoy  could  be  em- 
ployed in  the  business  than  the  droll  and  uncouth 
oddity  before  him.  'From  what  had  already  taken 
place  between  him  and  the  earl,  the  humour  and 
peculiarities  of  Andrew  seemed  likely  to  render 
the  communication  less  disagreeable  to  his  lord- 
ship than  his  own  dry  and  regular  method  of 
explaining  the  circumstances,  and  he  summoned 
him  at  once  from  the  desk. 

"  You  must  go,  Wylie,"  said  he,  "  to  Lord 
Sandyford  with  these  papers.  They  contain  some 
matters  respecting  the  loan  of  twenty  thousand 
pounds  that  I  have  procured  for  his  lordship." 

"  Twenty  thousand  pounds  ! — barro't  money  !  " 
exclaimed  Andrew.  But  his  master,  without 
noticing  the  exclamation,  continued,  "And  you 
will  tell  him  that  it  really  could  not  be  obtained 
on  better  terms  ;  that,  in  fact,  at  present  every- 
thing in  the  City  is  drained  by  an  instalment  of 
the  Government  loan ;  and  money  can  only  be 
raised  with  the  utmost  difficulty,  and  on  terms  I 
am  almost  ashamed  to  state." 

"  I  wish — I  wish,"  said  Andrew,  "  that  my 
lord  may  hand  thegither  twenty  thousand  pounds 


112  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

a'  at  ance  ;  and  wasting  baith  at  heck  and  manger 
wi'  bardie  leddies  and  whirligig  fool-fellows  at 
yon  gait ! " 

Vellum  was  folding  up  the  papers  while  our 
hero  made  this  observation ;  and,  a  little  re- 
lieved from  his  anxiety  by  having  selected  him 
for  his  minister,  said  jocularly,  "  You  may  as  well 
give  his  lordship  a  word  of  advice  on  the  subject, 
Wylie,  if  you  find  him  in  the  humour." 

"  Atweel  I'll  no  grudge  to  do  that,"  replied 
Andrew,  seriously ;  "  for  he's  a  fine  man,  and 
his  leddy  a  most  discreet1  woman — only  a  wee 
thought  ouer  muckle  ta'en  up  wi'  hersel'.  It's 
a  pity  that  my  lord  and  her  dinna  draw  thegither 
so  weel  as  could  be  wished." 

Vellum  was  startled  by  this  remark,  and,  look- 
ing earnestly  and  inquisitively  at  Andrew,  said, 
"  Have  you  heard  anything  about  them  ?  " 

"  Me  hear  about  them !  What  couLl  I  hear 
about  them  ?  I  ken  nobody  that's  acquaint  wi' 
ony  o'  them  save  yoursel' ;  but  I  have  twa  holes 
in  my  head,  and  as  many  windows,  and  I  can 
hearken  at  the  ane,  and  keek  out  at  the  ither, 
and  learn  what's  gaun  on  in  the  warld  just  as 
weel  as  ither  folk.  My  leddy,  Mr  Vellum,  is 
mair  weel-bred  in  the  parleyvoo  style  to  her 
gudeman  than  a  kindly  wife  should  be,  and  my 
lord  fashes2  at  her  formality." 

"  You  are  a  strange  creature,  or  I  am  mis- 
taken," said  Vellum,  as  he  handed  him  the 

1  Discreet.     Polite.  a  Fashes.     Ycxcs  himself. 


BORROWING  1 1 3 

papers ;  "  and  I  hope  you  will  not  blunder  in 
this  business." 

Andrew,  as  he  received  them,  assured  his 
master  that  he  might  depend  he  would  do  his 
best  endeavours  to  give  both  him  and  the  earl 
satisfaction,  and,  taking  his  hat,  hastened  to  Sandy- 
ford  House,  where  he  was  immediately  admitted. 

"  What !  Wylie,  are  you  sent  ?  "  cried  his  lord- 
ship, somewhat  surprised  when  our  hero  entered. 

"  For  lack  o'  a  'better  hand,  my  lord,  the 
master  bade  me  tak  thir  papers  to  your  lordship, 
and  to  tell  you  that  he  was  vera  sorry  he  couldna 
get  the  siller  on  onything  like  Christian  terms 
at  this  time." 

His  lordship  smiled,  saying,  "  I  thought  he 
knew  that  I  never  expected  it  on  anything  like 
Christian  terms." 

"  It's  a  great  soom,  my  lord,"  resumed  Andrew, 
looking  at  the  earl  from  under  his  brows,  "and 
maun  hae  ta'en  a  hantle  o'  gathering  and  gripping 
to  make  it  up  ;  and  it's  a  sair  pity  that  it  winna 
last  lang  wi'  your  lordship." 

The  earl,  at  this  address,  laid  the  papers  on  the 
table,  and  begged  Andrew  to  be  seated. 

"  What  were  you  observing,  Mr  Wylie,  about 
the  money  ? "  said  his  lordship,  when  Andrew 
had  seated  himself  aloof  from  the  table. 

"  I  was  just  saying,  sir,  my  lord,  that  twenty 
thousand  pounds  is  a  dreadful  soom  of  money. 
It's  a  thousand  pounds  a  year,  my  lord,  at  mer- 
chant's rate,  o'  dead  loss." 

VOL.    I.  11 


114  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  It  is  so,  Wylie  ;  but  what  then  ?  " 

"  Nae :  as  to  the  what  then  o'  the  business," 
cried  Andrew,  in  some  degree  lightened  in  his 
spirit,  "that's  your  lordship's  look-out.  But  1 
canna  bear  to  see  an  honest  gentleman  riding 
helter-skelter  straight  on  to  a  broken  brig,  and 
no  gie  him  warning." 

"  This  is  at  least  something  new,"  said  the  earl 
to  himself,  a  little  interested,  and  with  a  kindly 
excitement  of  sensibility  towards  his  friend  ;  and 
he  then  added,  "  I  am  certainly  obliged  to  you, 
Wylie." 

"Ye're  nane  obligated  to  me,"  cried  Andrew; 
"  it's  the  part  o'  honesty  to  let  you  ken  the  road 
ye're  in ;  but  (as  Burns  says  to  the  de'il),  '  O 
would  ye  tak  a  thought  and  men','  for  really,  my 
lord,  I'm  wae  for  you.  A  man  o'  your  degree 
can  neither  work  nor  want,  and  what  will  become 
o'  you  when  a's  gane  to  a'  ?  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is,  my  lord,  before  I  would  be  hinging  ae  mill- 
stone about  my  neck  after  anither  in  this  gait, 
I  would  take  a  rung,1  and  thrash  every  ane  o' 
your  het  and  fu'  flunkeys  out  o'  the  house.  Devil 
do  me  gude  o'  them,  and  o'  the  other  clam- 
jamphrey2  that  are  eating  you  out  of  house  and 
hall,  but  I  would  let  them  ken  what  twenty 
thousand  pounds  are  in  as  many  paiks  ! 3  Sir, 
my  lord,  if  ye'll  believe  me,  there  was  no  ae 
single  ane  o'  a'  that  fool  antic  mob  of  latherons4 

1  Rung.     Thick  stick.  -  Clamjamplircij.     Worthless  crew. 

3  Paiks.     Blows.  4  Latherons.     Lazy  "  characters." 


BORROWING  1 1 5 

and  merry-andrews,  devouring  the  mains  more 
here  the  ither  night  wi'  their  gallanting,  that 
would  gie  your  lordship  a  bawbee  for  aukl  lang- 
syne,  if  ye  were  seeking  your  meat  frae  door 
to  door  in  a  cauhl  winter's  day,  Avi'  the  drap 
at  your  neb,  and  the  tear  in  your  e'e,  and  no 
ae  handfu', — 110  even  a  cauld  potato, — in  your 
meal-pock." 

"The  picture  is  strong,"  said  the  earl  empha- 
tically; "but  it  is'  not  without  some  true  por- 
traiture. What  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  " 

"It  would  be  out  of  11  bounds  o'  discretion 
for  me  to  advise  your  lordship,"  replied  our  hero. 
"I'm  only  speaking  o'  what  I  would  do  mysel' ; 
but  then  I'm  neither  a  lord  nor  a  married  man." 

"  Yes,  Wylie,  yes ;  you  are  right.  The  lord 
and  the  married  man  are  two  serious  considera- 
tions," said  the  earl  a  little  pensively. 

"  Ane  of  them,"  cried  Andrew,  briskly,  "is  bad 
enough  ;  but  the  twa  make  a  case  that  would 
pu/zle  Solomon  himsel'.  Howsomever,  sir,  my 
lord,  I  can  tell  you  ae  thing,  and  that  is,  redde 
the  ravelled  skein1  wi'  my  leddy,  and  aiblins 
baith  you  and  her  will  can  spare  some  o'  the  cost 
and  outlay  that  ye're  at  for  living  furniture,  the 
eating  dishes  and  drinking  decanters  that  oner 
often  garnish  your  table." 

The  earl's  colour  went  and  came  during  this 
speech  ;  his  eyes,  at  the  freedom  of  the  allusion 

1  Rtddc  the  ravelled  skein.  To  dit-entanglo  the  twisted 
business. 


116  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

to  Lady  Sandyford,  flashed  with  indignation,  but 
it  was  only  for  a  moment.  When  Andrew  paused, 
his  countenance  was  settled,  and  he  said  in  an 
easy  tone,  "  You  have,  I  think,  Wylie,  but  a  poor 
opinion  of  my  guests." 

"  The  folk  are  weel  eneugh ;  but,  as  your  lord- 
ship cares  sae  little  about  them,  I  wonder  how  ye 
can  be  fashed  wi'  siclike." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  care  little  about 
them  ?  "  said  the  earl,  half  amused,  but  surprised, 
at  the  remark. 

"  As  the  auld  sang  sings,"  said  Andrew, 

"  '  Them  that  p-ant 
Something  want, 
Sleep,  meat,  or  making  o'.' 

And  ye'll  excuse  my  freedom,  sir,  my  lord  ;  but  I 
have  seen,  mair  than  once  or  twice,  that  your  lord- 
ship was  no  in  a  vera  satisfied  situation,  notwith- 
standing the  merriment  and  daffing  around  you." 

"  How  ? "  cried  the  earl,  and  bit  his  lips. 
"  But,  Wylie,  what  makes  you  suppose  that  there 
is  what  you  call  a  ravelled  skein  between  me  and 
Lady  Sandyford  ?  " 

The  jocular  tone  in  which  his  lordship  uttered 
this  sentence,  was  calculated  to  throw  Andrew 
oil'  his  guard  ;  but  it  produced  no  change  in  the 
earnest  simplicity  with  which  he  was  endeavour- 
ing to  fulfil  the  orders  he  had  received  from  his 
master,  with  respect  to  recommending  economy 
to  the  earl. 


BORROWING  117 

"  I  meant  no  offence/'  replied  Andrew  respect- 
fully ;  "  but  I  thought  the  best  way  for  your  lord- 
ship to  begin  to  retrench  would  be  by  trying  to 
do  with  as  little  company  as  possible ;  and,  if 
my  leddy  might  be  brought  to  the  same  way 
of  thinking,  it  would  be  a  blithe  thing  for  you 
baith." 

Andrew  paused,  for  he  observed  a  cloud  pass- 
ing over  the  earl's  expressive  countenance  ;  and 
a  mutual  silence  for  some  time  ensued,  during 
which  his  lordship  rose  and  walked  towards  the 
window.  Our  hero  also  left  his  chair,  and  was 
standing  on  the  floor  to  make  his  bow  of  leave, 
when  the  earl  turned  round.  "Wylie,"  said  his 
lordship  playfully,  "  can  you  speak  of  trees,  from 
the  cedar  that  is  in  Lebanon  even  unto  the  hyssop 
that  springeth  out  of  the  wall  ?  " 

"  It's  no  right  o'  your  lordship,"  replied  Andrew 
seriously,  "  to  make  a  fool  o'  the  Bible,  by  liken- 
ing me  to  King  Solomon,  the  wisest  man  that 
ever  was  in  the  world  ;  so  I  wish  your  lordship  a 
vera  good  morning.  But  hae  ye  onything  to 
say  to  Mr  Vellum  anent  the  twenty  thousand 
pounds  ?  " 

"What  can  I  have  to  say?  I  wanted  the  money: 
he  has  got  it :  and  I  doubt  not  has  made  tho 
best  bargain  in  his  power.  So  take  back  the 
papers,  and  tell  him  to  prepare  the  deeds." 

"Sir,  my  lord,"  cried  Andrew,  petrified,  "ye 
hae  never  lookit  at  the  papers." 

The    earl    smiled,    and    stepping    towards    the 


118  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

table  gathered  them  up  and  counted  them ;  he 
then  placed  them  in  Andrew's  hands,  and  said, 
"  I  have  looked  quite  as  much  at  them  as  I 
wish  to  do." 

Andrew  shook  his  head  as  he  received  the 
papers,  and  for  a  moment  looked  compassionately 
at  the  earl.  There  was  something  in  the  motion 
and  the  look  that  produced  an  electrical  vibration 
at  the  heart  of  his  lordship,  and  as  our  hero 
moved  towards  the  door  and  retired  he  followed 
him  with  his  eye ;  and  even  after  the  door  was 
closed,  still  he  continued  for  several  minutes  to 
gaze  in  that  direction. 

"  I  have  hitherto  lived  among  machines,"  said 
the  earl,  in  soliloquy,  moving  from  the  spot, 
and  throwing  himself  carelessly  on  a  sofa  ;  "  but 
this  is  a  human  being.  It  has  brains,  in  which 
thought  rises  naturally  as  water  wells  from  the 
ground,  the  wholesome  element  of  temperance ; 
it  has  a  heart  too  ;  and  in  this  little  discourse 
has  shown  more  of  man  than  all  the  bearded 
bipeds  I  have  ever  met  with.  What  am  I  to 
him  that  he  should  take  such  brotherly  interest 
in  my  desolation  ?  And  how  should  he  know 
that  it  is  caused  by  my  wife  ?  My  wife  !  What 
wife  ?  I  have  no  wife  :  scarcely  so  much  of  one 
as  Othello  had  when  he  had  slain  the  gentle 
Desdemona."  And  in  saying  these  words,  his 
lordship  rolled  his  head  over  towards  the  back 
of  the  sofa,  and  covering  his  face  with  his 
handkerchief  lay  seemingly  asleep. 


CHAPTER    XY1II 

An  Accident. 

JL  HE  Earl  of  Saridyford  was  an  only  child.  In 
his  fifth  year  he  had  succeeded  to  the  family 
honours  and  estates.  The  countess,  his  mother, 
was  one  of  those  respectable  ladies  who,  at  their 
exit  from  the  stage  of  life,  are  declared  in  the 
obituary  of  the  newspapers  to  have  been  of  the 
nature  of  pearls  and  precious  stones — ornaments 
to  their  sex.  Her  husband  bequeathed  to  her 
the  principal  direction  of  his  son's  education. 
The  young  lord  was  the  last  of  his  immediate 
line ;  and,  in  the  event  of  dying  without  issue, 
the  estates  and  titles  devolved  on  the  remote 
descendant  of  some  collateral  ancestor.  The 
dowager  felt  it  no  less  her  duty,  on  this  account, 
to  cultivate  his  affections  for  the  domestic  vir- 
tues (in  order  that  lie  might  be  early  induced 
to  form  a  suitable  matrimonial  connection),  than 
to  provide  all  the  proper  and  requisite  means 
for  the  development  of  his  talents  and  the  forma- 
tion of  a  character,  which,  she  was  persuaded, 
would  reflect  lustre  on  his  country. 

With    this    view,    his    education    was     entirely 

110 


120  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

domestic ;  but  conducted  by  masters  eminently 
qualified,  till  he  reached  his  sixteenth  year, 
when  he  was  sent  to  college.  The  countess, 
at  the  same  time,  assiduously  preserved  an  old 
intimacy  with  the  Avonside  family,  the  daughters 
of  which  promised  to  excel  their  mother,  who 
had  been  one  of  the  most  celebrated  beauties 
of  her  day,  and  whose  many  amiable  qualities 
were  far  dearer  in  the  recollection  of  her  friends 
than  the  charms  of  her  person  or  the  graces 
of  her  manners.  She  died  while  her  children 
were  all  young  ;  but  in  the  marquis,  their  father, 
it  was  thought  they  had  a  wise  and  excellent 
protector.  Unfortunately,  however,  after  her 
death,  he  devoted  himself,  as  he  said,  entirely 
to  public  business,  and  lett  them  in  the  hands 
of  hired  instructors,  who  were  only  anxious  that 
they  should  be  distinguished  for  the  elegance  of 
their  external  acquirements. 

In  the  course  of  this  intimacy,  the  countess 
had,  in  due  time,  the  satisfaction  to  observe 
that  Lady  Augusta,  the  eldest,  began  to  interest 
the  youthful  admiration  of  her  son ;  and  it  soon 
became  an  understood  thing  among  the  respec- 
tive friends  of  the  two  families  that,  when  his 
lordship  came  of  age,  a  marriage  would,  in  all 
probability,  take  place. 

We  shall  not  dwell  on  intervening  circum- 
stances. Lord  Sandyford,  at  college,  was  allowed 
to  possess  talents  of  a  very  high  order.  The 
most  sanguine  expectations  were  formed  of  him 


AN  ACCIDENT  121 

by  his  ecquaintance  ;  but  some  of  them  differed 
as  to  tli3  department  in  which  he  was  likely 
to  excel.  The  ambitious,  who  judged  of  him 
by  his  occasional  animation,  predicted  that  he 
would  exalt  the  political  renown  of  his  country  ; 
but  those  who  most  esteemed  the  milder  move- 
ments of  his  character  cherished  the  hope  that 
his  genius  would  add  to  her  more  permanent 
glory  in  the  quiet  pursuits  of  a  literary  life. 
Both  parties  were  'equally  disappointed. 

Lady  Augusta  Spangle  was  in  many  respects 
the  reflex  of  her  accomplished  lover.  She  was 
not  only  endowed  with  great  beauty,  but  an  edu- 
cation, conducted  with  admirable  skill  to  bring 
out  all  the  showy  portions  of  her  character  in  their 
fairest  forms  and  liveliest  colours,  had  adorned 
her  with  many  elegances,  almost  as  fascinating 
as  that  charming  simplicity  with  which  Nature 
delights  to  set  at  defiance  the  graceful  endeavours 
of  art.  She  was  not  witty,  nor  did  she  possess 
any  of  that  sunniness  of  mind  which  beams  out 
in  the  smiles  of  good-humour  ;  but  her  apothegms 
had  often  the  force  of  wisdom,  and,  sometimes, 
the  brilliancy  as  well  as  the  barb  of  satire.  It 
was  impossible  to  see  her  without  admiration ; 
but  there  was  a  systematical  decorum  in  her 
deportment  which  diminished  the  delight  thai; 
her  singular  beauty  was  naturally  calculated  to 
inspire.  She  had,  in  fact,  been  educated  for  the 
market  of  fashion  ;  and,  deluded  by  the  sordid 
maxims  of  Mrs  Harridan,  to  whom  the  care  of 


122  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

her  youth  had  been  unfortunately  entrusted,  she 
believed  that  the  main  object  in  the  life  of  a 
young  woman  of  rank  is  to  obtain  an  establish- 
ment becoming  the  dignity  of  her  family.  "  Men/' 
as  that  antiquated  artificer  of  manners  would  often 
say  to  her  pupils,  "are  all  either  mercenary  or 
capricious  ;  and  the  daughter  of  a  duke,  if  she  is 
not  rich  (and  few  of  them  are  so),  has  no  chance 
of  marrying  according  to  her  mdition  unless  she 
render  herself  interesting  to  the  vanity  of  such 
noblemen  as  can  afford  to  indulge  their  fancies  in 
the  choice  of  a  wife."  Lady  Augusta  gave  credit 
to  her  precepts,  and  was  their  victim. 

It  might  have  been  thought,  considering  how 
soon  it  had  been  determined  that  Lady  Augusta 
was  destined  to  be  the  bride  of  Lord  Sandy  ford, 
that  Mrs  Harridan  would  have  relaxed  in  her 
efforts  to  form  an  artificial  character,  which,  if 
she  had  possessed  any  true  judgment  of  the 
world,  she  must  have  perceived  could  not  fail  in 
the  end  to  excite  the  aversion  of  the  earl ;  but 
her  system  was  to  make  neither  homes  happy  nor 
wives  amiable.  She  had  an  interest  of  her  own 
to  serve ;  and,  actuated  by  the  same  mercenary 
motives  as  the  music-masters  whom  she  em- 
ployed, was  solicitous  only  about  the  effect  which 
her  pupils  might  produce  on  their  appearance  in 
society.  The  eclat  of  a  splendid  general  deport- 
ment, she  knew,  would  redound  to  her  own 
advantage  ;  and  for  this  she  neglected  to  culti- 
vate those  (rentier  Graces  which  constitute  the 


AN  ACCIDENT  l<23 

true  strength  of  female  dominion.  One  thing, 
however,  resulted  from  her  system ;  but,  perhaps, 
it  depended  more  on  the  effect  of  individual 
feeling  than  it  was  a  necessary  consequence 
of  the  plated  virtues  which  she  so  assiduously 
polished.  The  desire  to  obtain  approbation 
quickened  the  sense  of  shame,  and  gave  it  even  a 
morbid  acuteness.  To  this  feeling  Lady  Augusta 
was  nervously  alive  ;  and  where  there  is  shame 
there  may  yet  be  virtue. 

The  day  after  Lord  Sandyford  came  of  age,  the 
marriage  was  celebrated  ;  but  before  the  honey- 
moon had  half  waned  it  was  evident  to  the  most 
cursory  visitor  that  his  lordship  had  imbibed  some 
secret  cause  of  distaste  against  his  beautiful  bride. 
By  the  end  of  the  third  month,  to  the  amazement 
of  all  the  world,  he  was  wildly  running  the  career 
of  dissipation. 

The  dowager,  his  mother,  was  broken-hearted 
by  this  unexpected  result,  and  her  distress  was 
consoled  in  the  usual  manner  by  a  number  of  sym- 
pathising friends, — not  all  females — ,  who,  in  their 
malicious  consolation,  often  remarked  that  after 
all,  sooner  or  later,  men  will  indemnify  themselves 
for  the  restraints  laid  upon  their  youth,  and  that 
the  good  old  way  of  letting  young  fellows  sow 
their  wild  oats  was  evidently  the  best,  as  it  was 
doubtless  the  result  of  practical  wisdom  and  ex- 
perience. "  We  therefore/'  said  these  honourable 
personages,  "do  not  despair  yet  of  seeing  Lord 
Sandyford  pull  up,  and  turn  out  a  very  shining 


124  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

character.  Nothing,  however,  was  farther  from 
the  charity  of  their  hopes ;  and  several  years 
passed  away  without  anything  arising  to  make 
them  doubt  that  his  ruin  was  irretrievable. 

In  the  meantime,  no  apparent  change  had 
taken  place  in  the  elegant  deportment  of  the 
countess.  She  was  still  radiant  with  beauty, 
and  the  splendour  of  her  accomplishments  was 
acknowledged  through  all  the  constellations  of 
fashion.  Her  prudence,  also,  received  its  due 
share  of  commendation  ;  for,  notwithstanding  the 
enigmatical  career  of  her  lord,  she  still  preserved 
with  him  the  conjugal  decorum  of  living  under 
the  same  roof.  But,  except  on  those  occasions 
when  it  was  necessary  to  exhibit  the  plate  and 
hospitality  of  the  family,  they  seldom  met ;  still 
maintaining,  however,  towards  the  world  that 
well-bred  reciprocity  of  civility  which  justified 
their  acquaintance  in  asking  them  to  the  same 
parties  on  the  same  card. 

One  night  as  her  ladyship  was  returning  home 
from  the  opera,  her  carriage,  in  crossing  from 
Piccadilly  into  Berkeley  Street,  ran  against  a 
gentleman  who  happened  to  be  passing  at  the 
moment,  and  seriously  hurt  him.  The  stranger 
was  Mr  Ferrers,  one  of  the  most  eccentric  orbs 
then  above  the  horizon  of  fashion.  This  gentle- 
man in  his  voutli  was  ardent  and  generous,  quick 
in  his  resentments,  easily  offended,  and  frank 
in  his  pardons ;  but  there  was  a  versatility  of 
humour  about  him  which  prevented  him  from 


AN  ACCIDENT  125 

making  friends,  and  as  he  advanced  in  life  the 
career  which  he  ran  tended  to  impair  his  best 
qualities.  The  succession  of  anxieties  which  he 
suffered  from  the  turf  and  the  hazard-table  ex- 
cited a  false  appetite  for  acute  sensations,  and 
all  pleasures  seemed  to  him  vapid  that  were 
not  flavoured  with  a  mixture  of  apprehension, 
and  even  of  danger.  His  losses  sharpened  his 
feelings,  and  his  success  was  a  spur  to  his  in- 
fatuation. This  distempered  state  of  excitement 
had,  at  the  period  of  which  we  are  speaking, 
attained  a  degree  of  frenzy ;  and,  although  in 
manners  the  unhappy  man  conducted  himself 
like  the  generality  of  the  circle  in  which  he 
moved,  he  was  already  touched  with  madness. 
His  insanity,  however,  had  not  manifested  itself 
in  any  instance  of  remarkable  extravagance  ;  but 
the  currents  of  his  mind  and  thoughts  were 
troubled  and  impetuous,  and  frequently  tem- 
pestuous gusts  and  whirlwinds  of  rage  and  pas- 
sion urged  him  with  a  headlong  rashness  in  his 
pursuits,  whatever  they  happened  to  be.  As 
often,  however,  as  he  attained  possession  of  his 
object,  the  paroxysm  immediately  subsided,  and 
he  paused,  as  it  were,  and  looked  round,  as  if  he 
stood  wondering  at  what  could  have  instigated 
him  into  such  precipitation  and  violence. 

During  tlie  period  that  he  was  confined  to 
his  room  by  the  accident,  Lady  Sandyford  (with 
whom  he  had  no  previous  acquaintance)  frequently 
sent  to  inquire  for  him ;  and  the  effect  of  this 


126  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

natural, — indeed,  under  the  circumstances,  in- 
dispensable— politeness,  inspired  him  with  a 
frenetic  enthusiasm  of  gratitude  towards  her 
ladyship,  insomuch  that,  when  he  was  in  a  con- 
dition to  mix  again  in  society,  he  sought  her 
out  in  all  places  with  an  impassioned  zeal  that 
belonged  alike  to  his  mental  infirmity  and  his 
character.  And  he  was  so  open  and  singular 
in  this  that  he  soon  attracted  the  eyes  of  the 
world  towards  him.  The  countess  was  a  neglected 
wife ;  but  such  had  been  the  pride  of  her  car- 
riage that  110  man  had  ever  ventured  to  address 
her  with  one  improper  expression,  and  such  the 
sustained  dignity  of  her  deportment  that  no 
circumstance  had  yet  occurred  to  require  the 
slightest  exertion  of  the  latent  powers  of  her 
own  mind.  She  was,  however,  struck  at  last 
with  the  assiduities  of  Ferrers ;  and,  having  a 
distinct  perception  of  the  shattered  state  of  his 
understanding,  instead  of  repelling  or  rebuking 
his  pertinacity,  she  stooped  (if  the  term  may 
be  allowed)  with  a  compassionate  condescension, 
which,  contrasted  with  her  usual  cool  and  col- 
lected demeanour,  begot  suniiises  prejudicial  to 
her  honour.  These,  for  a  time,  were  only  to  be 
met  with,  like  rare  coins  that  serve  for  counters, 
at  the  select  whist-tables  of  the  fates  of  reputa- 
tion ;  but  at  last  they  got  into  general  circulation 
among  the  small  change  of  scandal  at  the  club- 
houses. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

A  Paragraph. 

VJN  the  morning  preceding  one  of  Lady  Sandy- 
ford's  grand  winter  parties,  as  the  earl  was  sitting 
alone  in  the  library,  after  he  had  just  finished 
his  breakfast,  and  thrown  himself  back  in  his 
chair  with  his  feet  on  the  fender,  nursing  such 
aimless  fancies  as  float  in  the  haze  of  an  imagi- 
nation clouded  by  ennui,  an  incident  occurred 
which  precipitated  the  crisis  of  his  conjugal 
disease.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  servants  in 
the  hall  to  dry  the  wet  newspapers  with  a 
smoothing-iron,  which  not  only  did  the  business 
expeditiously,  but  gave  them  the  lustre  of  the 
hot-press.  It  was,  also,  as  regularly  their  custom 
to  inform  themselves  of  what  was  going  on  in 
the  world,  before  taking  in  the  papers  to  their 
master  and  mistress.  By  this,  a  paragraph  that 
pretty  plainly  accused  the  countess  of  infidelity 
was  discovered.  In  order  to  preserve  peace  in 
the  house,  it  was  suggested  by  one  of  the  foot- 
men that  it  would  be  as  well  to  burn  it  out,  as  if 
by  accident,  with  the  smoothing-iron.  This  was 
done,  and  the  paper  carried  in  to  his  lordship. 

127 


128  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

In  this  obliterating  operation,  however,  a 
portion  of  the  parliamentary  proceedings  was 
destroyed  ;  and,  little  interest  as  the  earl  took 
in  them,  or  indeed  in  any  earthly  concernment, 
he  could  not  endure  a  disappointment.  The 
bell,  in  consequence,  was  rung  sharply,  and 
another  copy  of  the  paper  forthwith  ordered. 
The  tone  in  which  this  command  was  delivered 
alarmed  the  servant  who  received  it,  and  he 
communicated  his  opinion  to  his  companions 
that  their  master  had  certainly,  notwithstanding 
their  contrivance,  made  out  some  of  the  defaced 
paragraph,  and  that,  therefore,  it  would  be  as 
good  as  their  places  were  worth  to  equivocate 
any  more  in  such  circumstances  ;  another  paper 
was  accordingly  procured,  and  presented  to  his 
lordship. 

There  was  an  air  of  embarrassment  in  the 
appearance  of  the  footman  who  carried  it  in 
which  struck  the  keen  eye  of  his  master.  He 
seemed  to  hesitate  as  he  laid  it  on  the  table, 
and  to  linger  in  the  room,  insomuch  that  the 
earl  ordered  him  to  retire. 

The  interest  which  had  been  excited  in  read- 
ing the  parliamentary  debate  had,  during  this 
little  interruption,  subsided.  Instead  of  turning 
to  it  again,  his  lordship  carelessly  allowed  his 
eves  to  wander  over  the  small -talk  in  the 
fashionable  department,  and  the  first  paragraph 
that  caught  his  attention  was  the  one  which 
alluded  to  the  infidelities  of  Lady  Sandyford. 


A  PARAGRAPH  129 

He  read  it  twice  over  emphatically  ;  he  rose 
from  his  seat  and  walked  to  the  window  ;  he 
then  returned,  and  read  it  again.  Happening  to 
glance  over  the  page,  he  saw  that  it  Avas  exactly 
on  the  back  of  the  passage  in  the  debate  Avhich 
had  been  burned  out.  "These  rascals/'  he  ex- 
claimed, "  are  acquainted  with  the  guilt  of  their 
mistress,  and  it  was  no  accident  that  occasioned 
the  burning  of  the  other  paper." 

His  first  movement  was  to  call  in  the  servants 
and  question  them  on  the  subject ;  but  in  the 
same  moment  he  reflected  on  his  oAvn  careless- 
ness as  a  husband,  and  AvithdreAV  his  hand  as  it 
was  stretched  towards  the  bell-pull, — mortified 
with  himself  that  the  sense  of  honour  should 
make  him  hesitate  to  vindicate  his  conjugal 
rights.  In  this  crisis  the  countess  entered,  and 
his  lordship,  rising  abruptly,  moved  towards  the 
door  as  if  he  had  resolved  not  to  speak  to  her ; 
but,  before  turning  the  bolt,  he  paused  and  said 
with  an  agitated  voice,  pointing  to  the  news- 
paper, "  Your  ladyship  Avill  find  an  interesting 
paragraph  among  the  scandalous  innuendos  of 
the  day  ;  "  and  in  saying  these  words,  he  hurried 
out  of  the  room. 

The  countess  hastily  seized  the  newspaper,  and 
on  looking  at  the  paragraph  suffered  an  inex- 
pressible feeling  of  humiliation  :  her  pride  Avas 
laid  prostrate,  and  she  sat  for  several  minutes 
in  a  state  of  stupefaction,  for  she  Avas  conscious 
of  never  having  been  guilty  of  any  levity,  and 

VOL.   L  I 


130  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

had  taken  no  small  merit  to  herself  for  the 
dignity  with  which  she  had  endured,  at  first 
the  spleen,  and  subsequently  the  negligence,  of 
her  lord.  In  the  course,  however,  of  a  few 
minutes,  she  recovered  her  self-possession,  and, 
ringing  the  bell,  directed  cards  to  be  instantly 
issued  to  inform  her  friends  that  her  assembly 
for  that  night  was  deferred.  With  equal  decision 
she  at  the  same  time  ordered  the  carriage  and 
drove  to  Mrs  Harridan's,  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
her  advice. 

On  reaching  the  residence  of  that  lady,  she 
was  at  once  admitted  by  the  servants ;  but  on 
entering  the  room  where  their  mistress  was 
sitting  she  perceived,  by  the  cool  ceremony  of 
her  reception,  that  Mrs  Harridan  was  already 
acquainted  with  the  fatal  paragraph.  A  short 
preface,  in  consequence,  served  to  introduce  the 
object  of  her  visit. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Mrs  Harridan,  calmly,  "  that 
there  is  no  real  foundation  for  this  slander ;  but, 
at  all  events,  my  dear  Lady  Sandy  ford,  it  is  not 
an  affair  in  which  I  can  with  any  propriety  in- 
terfere. Besides,  now  that  things  are  so  public, 
it  would  be  highly  improper  in  me,  considering 
my  situation,  with  so  many  young  ladies  of  rank 
under  my  care,  to  be  at  all  seen  in  the  business. 
Surely  you  have  other  friends,  more  experienced 
in  such  sort  of  misfortunes,  to  whom  you  can 
apply  with  more  advantage." 

The  countess  looked  at  her  with  surprise  and 


A  PARAGRAPH  131 

indignation,  exclaiming,  "  You  speak  as  if  I  were 
guilty  !  You  throw  me  from  you  as  if  I  brought 
infection  with  me  !  " 

"  Far  be  it  from  me/'  said  Mrs  Harridan,  in  the 
same  quiet  polite  tone,  "  to  suppose  any  such 
thing ;  but  I  am  much  too  insignificant  a  person 
to  take  the  reputation  of  the  Countess  of  Sandy- 
ford  under  my  protection." 

"  I  thought,"  cried  her  ladyship,  almost  burst- 
ing into  tears,  "  th&t  I  might,  in  any  distress, 
have  applied  to  you  as  to  a  mother." 

"I  trust,"  replied  Mrs  Harridan,  "that  when 
your  ladyship  was  under  my  charge,  you  always 
found  me  such,  and  your  conduct  then  was 
certainly  irreproachable :  but  I  cannot  be  re- 
sponsible for  the  behaviour  of  ladies  after  they 
have  entered  the  world.  In  a  word,  should  the 
result  of  this  unfortunate  business  prove  pre- 
judicial to  your  ladyship,  it  will  not  be  the  first 
instance  of  the  kind  that  has  confirmed  me  in 
the  prudence  of  a  rule  I  have  long  laid  down, — 
Never  to  interfere  in  the  concerns  of  my  pupils 
after  they  have  once  left  my  house.  I  shall 
rejoice  if  your  ladyship  is  acquitted  of  the  impu- 
tation ;  but  I  cannot  put  to  hazard  the  character 
of  my  establishment,  and  it  is,  therefore,  with  pro- 
found pain  that  I  feel  myself  constrained  to  put 
an  end  to  our  intercourse." 

The  countess  was  thunderstruck.  She  had 
never  before  been  addressed  in  the  plain  language 
of  a  business  mind,  sordidly  considering  its  own 


132  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

interests,  and  pursuing  them  in  contempt  of  all 
the  sympathies  and  charities  of  social  life.  She 
rose  from  her  seat ;  but  trembled  so  much  that, 
unable  to  stand,  she  sank  back  in  the  chair,  and 
gave  way  to  her  tears.  Her  spirits,  however, 
soon  rallied,  and  wiping  her  eyes,  she  returned 
abruptly  to  her  carriage  and  drove  directly  home, 
where  she  despatched  a  messenger  for  the  Marquis 
of  Avonside,  her  father. 


CHAPTER    XX 

An  Explanation. 

JL  HE  earl,  on  leaving  the  countess,  walked  into 
the  square,  with  the  intention  of  going  down 
to  St  James's  Street ;  but  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  felt  that  indescribable  embarrassment 
which  is  so  often  mistaken  for  shame.  He 
shrank  at  the  idea  of  meeting  the  eyes  of  his 
acquaintance,  conscious  that  they  must  already 
have  seen  the  paragraph,  and  could  not  deter- 
mine how  he  ought  to  act  in  circumstances  so 
painful  and  unexpected.  In  the  hesitation  which 
these  reflections  caused,  he  happened  to  recollect 
that  Mordauiit,  a  college  companion,  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  several  years,  had  left  his 
card  for  him  the  day  before,  and  he  instantly 
resolved  to  go  to  his  lodgings,  and  consult  him 
on  the  subject.  Accordingly,  instead  of  walk- 
ing down  Bond  Street,  he  crossed  into  Hanover 
Square,  and,  by  the  back  of  St  George's  Church, 
went  through  the  narrow  passage  leading  into 
Saville  Row,  thus  avoiding  the  great  thorough- 
fares in  his  way  to  Sackville  Street,  where  his 
friend  lodged. 


134  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

On  reaching  the  house,  and  being  informed 
that  he  was  at  home,  he  walked  upstairs,  unan- 
nounced, to  the  first  floor.  His  appearance  would 
have  been  a  sufficient  warranty  for  this  liberty 
to  the  servant  who  opened  the  door,  even  had 
his  person  not  been  almost  universally  known 
throughout  the  three  fashionable  parishes,  and 
especially  in  the  vicinity  of  St  James's  Street. 
For,  notwithstanding  the  dexterity  and  effect  of 
dress  and  address  in  the  adventurous  knights 
of  the  order  of  expedients,  there  is  still  an 
habitual  and  obvious  source  of  superiority  about 
the  unquestioned  gentleman  which  all  the  various 
degrees  of  public  servants  intuitively  recognise, 
and  none  more  quickly  than  the  landladies  and 
domestics  of  lodging-houses,  even  though  the 
stranger  should  be  fresh  from  the  country,  and  in 
the  newest  gloss  of  a  suit  made  on  purpose  for  the 
journey  to  London  by  some  worshipful  dignitary  in 
the  corporation  of  the  borough  nearest  his  estate. 

His  lordship,  on  reaching  the  landing-place, 
flung  the  drawing-room  door  carelessly  open. 
Mordaunt  at  the  moment  was  writing,  and, 
being  disturbed  by  the  nonchalance  of  this  in- 
trusion, raised  his  eyes  hastily,  and  did  not  at 
the  first  glance  recognise,  in  the  pale  attenuated 
elegance  of  the  man  of  fashion,  the  once  vigor- 
ous and  handsome  rival  of  his  boldest  exercises. 
In  an  instant,  however,  he  discovered  who  he 
was,  and,  starting  from  his  seat,  took  the  earl 
warmly  by  the  hands.  His  lordship  endured 


AN  EXPLANATION  135 

tnc  heartiness  of  the  double  shake  for  a  few 
seconds  with  evident  pleasure ;  but,  ashamed  to 
show  the  sensibility  that  he  felt,  he  abruptly 
pulled  his  hands  away,  and  shook  his  fingers  as 
if  they  were  tingling  with  the  squeeze,  saying,  "  I 
wish  the  gods  had  given  you  dryads'  and  fauns' 
hoofs  for  hands ;  you  have  positively  bruised  my 
fingers  to  jelly." 

The  manner  in  which  this  was  said  had  a 
cadence  of  affectation  in  it  which  struck  dis- 
agreeably on  the  ear  of  Mordaunt,  and  he  looked 
for  a  moment  at  the  delicate  complexion  and 
elegant  emaciation  of  his  friend  with  a  strong 
feeling  of  disappointment  and  compassion ;  but 
his  kinder  disposition  turned  upon  him,  and  he 
exclaimed,  "  Heavens  !  Sandyford,  what  an  altered 
being  ! "  His  lordship,  with  a  drolling  coolness, 
in  the  same  moment  examined  Mordaunt  curiously 
from  head  to  foot,  and  with  burlesque  gravity 
said,  "  These  muscles  are  the  growth  of  nocturnal 
rest ;  that  hue  is  gathered  from  the  morning  sun, 
and  that  strength  from  many  a  stubble  -  field 
and  mile  of  hill  and  dale.  Upon  my  honour, 
Mordaunt,  you  are  the  most  perfect  personifica- 
tion of  the  blessings  of  a  country  life  I  have  ever 
seen — absolutely  a  rural  allegory — Apollo  fresh 
from  the  flocks  of  Peneus."  He  then  paused  in 
his  raillery,  and  taking  Mordaunt,  with  the  sin- 
cerity of  their  old  friendship,  by  the  hand,  added, 
"  I  cannot  express  how  delighted  I  am  to  see 
you,  and  to  see  you  thus." 

<* 


136  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  And  you  thus,  Sandyford/'  replied  Mordaunt, 
recollecting  the  bright  expectations  which  had 
once  been  cherished  of  his  friend. 

"  Indeed  I  am  not  surprised  that  you  should  be 
somewhat  disconcerted,  for  I  believe  that  I'm  a 
little  spectrish ;  and  it  is  certain  that  I  have  been 
long  thought  no  more/'  said  his  lordship. 

There  was  a  degree  of  sensibility  in  the  manner 
in  which  the  latter  part  of  this  sentence  was  ex- 
pressed that  vibrated  to  the  generous  heart  of  Mor- 
daunt, and,  without  answering,  he  drew  the  earl 
to  a  seat,  and  resumed  his  own  chair  at  the  table. 

"  But,"  said  his  lordship,  gaily,  "  these  things 
must  not  be  thought  of  in  these  ways.  What 
may  the  business  be  that  has  brought  you  to 
town,  from  the  peaceful  shades  and  the  inno- 
cence of  the  groves  ?  " 

Mordaunt,  equally  desirous  to  change  the  con- 
versation, which  he  saw  troubled  his  lordship, 
said,  "Matrimony." 

"  You  are  indeed  a  bold  fellow  to  venture 
on  a  town-bred  wife,"  cried  the  earl ;  "  I  really 
thought  that  the  simple  race  of  the  swains  had 
been  extinct ;  particularly,  as  the  poets  have  of 
late  given  them  up,  almost  even  in  the  way 
of  rhyme.  But  you  surprise  me.  Who  is  the 
Chloe  that  with  ears  more  used  to  the  sound 
of  bells  and  the  rattling  of  wheels  than  to  the 
singing  of  birds  or  of  falling  waters  has  capti- 
vated the  gentle  Damon  ?  " 

"Matters  are  not  quite  so  pastoral  with  us  as 
* 


AN  EXPLANATION  137 

that,"  replied  Mordaunt.  "  The  nymph  is  an  old 
acquaintance  of  your  own,  Julia  Beauchamp." 

"The  beautiful  Julia!"  exclaimed  his  lord- 
ship with  unaffected  emotion,  recollecting  that 
he  had  not  seen  her  since  his  own  ill-fated 
marriage ;  but  he  suppressed  the  remembrance, 
and  said,  with  animation,  "  The  faithful  loves 
then  do  still  reside  among  the  sylvan  bowers." 
But  this  play  of  fancy  memory  again  inter- 
rupted, and  presented  the  image  of  Lady  Sandy- 
ford  in  that  glowing  beauty  which  had  first 
charmed  his  youthful  affections  when  he  beheld 
her  in  the  graces  of  her  virgin  years,  bounding 
like  the  fawn  amidst  the  stately  groves  that  sur- 
round the  venerable  magnificence  of  her  ancestral 
home,  contrasted  with  the  condition  into  which 
she  had  fallen  ;  and  he  suddenly  paused,  and  re- 
mained some  time  silent. 

"You  are  indisposed,  Sandyford — what  is  the 
matter  ?  "  said  Mordaunt  anxiously. 

"I  am  only  thinking,"  replied  his  lordship, 
"that  there  cannot  be  a  fitter  moment  for  com- 
municating some  notion  of  the  comforts  of  matri- 
mony than  when  a  man  is  on  the  verge  of  the 
precipice.  Pshaw  ! — I  must  speak  out.  You 
are  here,  Mordaunt,  at  that  moment  of  all  my 
life  in  which  I  stand  most  in  need  of  a  friend 
— a  friend  such  as  you  are.  Have  you  heard 
anything  about  Lady  Sandyford  ?  " 

"  My  lord  I "  cried  Mordaunt,  in  extreme  as- 
tonishment. 


138  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"The  lapse  of  the  countess/'  continued  his 
lordship,  "  affects  me  little ;  but,  according  to 
the  maxims  of  that  old  rascal,  the  world,  the 
business  has  become  so  public  that  I  must  in 
terfere.  Nothing  is  bad  in  London  so  long  as 
it  is  unknown,  and  this  affair  is  so  notorious 
that  it  is  very  bad — oh,  shockingly  bad  !  But 
do  not  listen  to  me  with  such  a  look  of  strange 
wonder :  astonishment  is  now  quite  obsolete ; 
nobody  submits  to  do  anything  so  simple.  Do 
assume  a  virtue,  though  you  have  it  not,  or  I, 
too,  shall  forget  myself.  In  a  word,  Mordaunt, 
I  had  not  been  long  married  when  I  discovered 
that  Lady  Sandyford  was  deficient  in  the  most 
essential  quality  of  a  wife — the  heart." 

"  Who   is  the  seducer  ? "    said   Mordaunt,   em 
phatically. 

"  Pray,  don't  DC  so  tragical :  I  beg  you  won't," 
cried  the  earl,  to  disguise  his  own  emotion. 
"You  consider  this  affair  too  sentimentally. 
Believe  me,  I  have  been  long  indifferent  about 
the  woman.  I  wish  but  for  a  good  reason  to 
be  well  rid  of  her  society — my  respect  for  her 
family,  as  I  shall  of  course  say  to  the  world  ;  but, 
to  deal  more  plainly  with  you,  my  own  conduct 
will  not  allow  me  to  do  more.  Besides,  the  dis- 
grace of  a  public  exposure  woul.l  break  the  proud 
heart  of  her  father,  nor  can  1  make  money  by 
the  dishonour  of  my  wife." 

His  lordship  then  proceeded  to  tell  his  friend 
that,  soon  after  his  marriage,  he  discovered  that 


AN  EXPLANATION  139 

the  whole  mind  of  Lady  Sandyford  was  bent 
on  the  figure  which  she  herself  would  make  in 
society,  by  which  she  had  disgusted  his  feel- 
ings and  embittered  his  existence  ;  that,  giving 
way  to  the  poignancy  of  disappointment,  he  had 
rushed  into  the  follies  of  the  town,  which,  how- 
ever, instead  of  alleviating  the  irksomeness  of 
his  condition,  only  exasperated  his  reflections,  and 
drove  him,  with  redoubled  frenzy,  into  a  fresh 
career  of  dissipation,  during  which  the  countess 
pursued  her  own  triumphant  self-exhibition,  and 
reached  the  summit  of  her  ambitious  vanity. 

"I  thought/'  said  his  lordship,  "that  pride,  if 
not  virtue,  would,  however,  have  preserved  her ; 
but  she  has  fallen,  and,  as  in  all  similar  cases,  the 
husband  is  among  the  last  that  hears  the  news." 

He  then  related  the  incident  of  the  burned 
newspaper,  and  the  paragraph. 

Mordaunt  agreed  that  from  so  public  a  cir- 
cumstance there  must  be  some  grounds  for  the 
suspicion,  and  recommended  that  the  servants 
should  be  examined. 

"  But,"  said  the  earl,  "  even  were  she  guilt}-, 
I  do  not  mean  to  institute  any  process  for  a 
divorce.  Your  head,  however,  is  cooler  than 
mine  ;  I  will  be  guided  by  you." 

"  Ah,  my  lord  !  "  cried  Mordaunt,  "  do  not  say 
to  me  that  you  can  regard  with  indifference  the 
misfortunes,  far  less  the  dishonour,  of  a  beautiful 
woman  to  Avhom  you  were  at  one  time  so  pas- 
sionately attached." 


140  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

After  some  further  conversation,  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  Mordaunt  should  immediately  go  to 
Lady  Sandyfordj  and  that  the  earl  should,  in  the 
meantime,  remain  in  Sackville  Street,  and  wait 
the  result  of  the  interview. 

While  Mordaunt  was  absent  on  this  interesting 
mission,  his  lordship  sat  for  some  time  review- 
ing, with  no  favourable  construction  to  himself, 
the  rapid  perdition  of  so  many  years  of  the 
best  portion  of  his  life.  In  the  course  of  this 
reckoning,  he  blamed  himself  still  more  than  in 
the  morning  for  the  precipitancy  with  which  he 
had,  in  a  temporary  fit  of  spleen,  endeavoured  to 
cancel  the  affection  which  he  had  cherished  for 
his  lady,  and  the  folly  of  casting  himself  so 
thoroughly  away,  on  account  of  a  disappointment 
which  it  would  have  been  more  manly  to  have 
mastered.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  it  is  never  too  late 
to  mend,  and  the  sooner  I  begin  the  change  the 
better." 

In  the  same  moment  he  seated  himself  at 
Mordaunt' s  table,  and  wrote  a  note  to  Mr  Vellum, 
requesting  him  to  bring,  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, a  statement  of  his  affairs.  This  was  requisite 
in  order  to  enable  him  to  regulate  his  generosity 
with  respect  to  a  settlement  on  the  countess  ; 
and  it  was  also  required  with  a  view  to  his  own 
future  conduct,  for  he  was  well  aware  that  he 
had  deeply  encumbered  his  estates,  and  that, 
before  he  could  enter  upon  a  new  course  of  life, 
it  would  be  necessary  to  abridge  the  prodigality 


AN  EXPLANATION  Ml 

of  his  household.  The  writing  of  this  note  to 
his  solicitor  was,  perhaps,  the  only  decisive  step 
he  had  taken  for  a  number  of  years,  and  he  felt, 
when  it  was  done,  something  analogous  to  that 
glow  of  satisfaction  enjoyed  by  the  strong  or  the 
bold  after  a  successful  exertion  of  strength  and 
dexterity. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

An  Event. 

VV  HEN  the  countess,  after  her  return  from  Mrs 
Harridan,  had  sent  for  the  marquis  her  father, 
our  hero  had  occasion  to  call  at  Saiidyford  House 
from  Mr  Vellum.  Her  ladyship  having  inadver- 
tently given  no  orders  to  be  denied,  he  was 
shown  into  the  room  where  she  happened  to  be 
then  sitting.  A  visit  from  Andrew  was  little  in 
accordance  with  the  state  of  her  feelings ;  but 
she  received  him  as  usual.  He  soon,  however, 
discovered  that  something  was  the  matter,  and 
said,  "  I'm  thinking,  my  leddy,  it's  no  vera  con- 
venient for  me  to  be  here,  so  I'll  just  go  awa' 
at  ance — but  I  hope  my  lord's  weel,  and  that 
it's  no  onything  anent  him  that's  fashing  your 
ladyship." 

The  publicity  of  a  newspaper  paragraph,  and 
the  familiarity  with  which  Andrew  was  treated, 
removed  any  delicacy  that  might  otherwise  have 
been  felt  by  the  countess  on  the  subject  ;  and 
she  replied,  "No  ;  stop  where  you  arc,"  and  she 
then  explained  the  cause  of  her  anxiety. 

"  Really,  I  dinna  wonder  ye're  vext,"  said  our 

14:2 


AN  EVENT  143 

hero ;  "  but  everybody  kens  the  newspapers  live 
by  the  decking  o'  lees,1  and  I  think,  before  you 
or  my  lord  gie  them  either  credit  or  consequence, 
it  would  be  as  weel  to  sift  the  truth  o't.  I'm, 
as  ye  ken,  my  leddy,  but  a  novice  ;  howsomever, 
aibliiis  I  may  be  o'  spark  o'  use  in  this  :  so  I'll 
get  at  the  bottom  o'  the  clash,2  an  it  be  for  nae 
mair  than  to  show  my  gratitude  for  the  great 
ceevilities  that  I  am  beholden  for,  to  baith  your 
leddyship  and  my  lord ; "  and  he  instantly  rose 
to  go  away,  saying  jocularly,  "  Keep  a  good  heart, 
my  leddy.  A  foul  lie  is  no  so  durable  as  pock- 
mark  :  it  can  be  (lighted  off."  3 

"  True  ;  but  the  stain  it  leaves  behind,"  said 
her  ladyship,  with  a  sigh 

"  A  snuff  o'  tobacco  about  stains  ;  your  leddy- 
ship's  character  's  no  a  gauze  gown  or  a  worm 
web  to  be  spoilt  with  a  spittle,  or  ony  other 
foul  thing  out  of  the  mouth  of  man."  And  in 
saying  these  words  he  took  his  leave  with  that 
customary  bob  of  the  head  which  served  all  the 
purposes  of  a  graceful  bow. 

The  moment  that  the  countess  mentioned  the 
paragraph,  he  had  recollected  that  there  was 
in  one  of  the  newspaper  offices  a  young  man 
of  the  name  of  Nettle,  of  whom  he  had  some 
slight  acquaintance  ;  and  it  occurred  to  him  that 
by  his  means  he  might  be  able  to  reach  the 
author  of  the  slander.  This  Nettle  had  been 

1  decking  o  Ices.     Hatching  of  lies. 
-Clash.     Gu.s,sip.  *I)iyhtcdoff.     Wiped  off. 


144  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

educated  with  a  view  to  the  pulpit ;  but  his 
disposition  being  loose  and  satirical,  his  father 
sent  him  to  study  the  law  under  John  Gledd. 
At  the  end  of  his  apprenticeship,  Nettle,  accord- 
ing to  the  practice  of  the  profession,  went  to 
Edinburgh,  to  complete  his  studies  in  the  office 
of  a  Writer  to  the  Signet,1  where  he  mingled 
with  the  swarm  of  minor  wits  that  infest  the 
Parliament  House,  and,  being  naturally  clever,  ac- 
quired a  taste  for  polite  literature,  and  sharpened 
his  talent  for  satire.  He  possessed  an  amusing 
and  lively  fancy  :  indeed,  so  lively  that  it  proved 
prejudicial  to  himself;  for  while  it  rendered  his 
company  exceedingly  diverting  it  made  him  dis- 
like his  business,  and  in  the  end  threw  him 
upon  the  streets  of  London,  a  mere  literary 
adventurer.  In  this  state  he  fortunately  ob- 
tained employment  as  a  reporter ;  and  at  the 
time  when  our  hero  came  to  London  he  was 
not  only  in  considerable  reputation  as  such,  but 
was  also  a  general  contributor  to  most  of  the 
metropolitan  periodical  works,  particularly  the 
reviews,  in  which  the  pungency  of  his  wit  was 
more  remarkable  than  the  soundness  of  his  judg- 
ment. Our  hero  had  brought  an  introductory 
letter  to  him  from  their  old  master ;  but  he 
soon  saw  that  the  habits  and  disposition  of 
Nettle  were  not  congenial  to  that  sober  system 
of  perseverance  which  lie  had  laid  down  for  the 
government  of  his  own  conduct. 

1   Writer  to  the  Siynct,     Note  D. 


AN  EVENT  145 

On  quitting  Sandy  ford  House,  Andrew  went 
directly  to  the  office  where  Nettle  was  employed, 
and  it  happened  to  be  that  of  the  very  paper  in 
which  the  mischievous  paragraph  appeared.  In 
fact,  the  paragraph  had  been  penned  by  Nettle 
himself,  who,  having  accidentally  heard  some- 
thing of  the  rumours  in  circulation  respecting 
Lord  and  Lady  Sandyford,  formed  in  his  own 
imagination  a  complete  and  plausible  conception 
of  the  whole  intrigue  in  which  it  is  supposed 
her  ladyship  had  been  engaged ;  and  when, 
from  the  ordinary  channel,  he  received  an 
account  of  the  preparations  for  her  party,  he 
was  in  consequence  tempted  to  write  the  para- 
graph, in  order  to  anticipate  a  denouement, 
which,  according  to  his  notions,  would  neces- 
sarily take  place  soon,  perhaps  in  the  course  of 
that  evening. 

Andrew  had  some  difficulty  in  gaining  access  to 
Nettle,  nor  was  he  admitted  until  he  had  sent 
notice  that  he  wished  very  earnestly  and  particu- 
larly to  see  him,  "on  business  of  the  uttermost 
importance." 

"Well,  and  what's  this  business  of  the  utter- 
most importance  that  you  have  got  with  me  ? " 
said  Nettle,  laughingly. 

"  It's  a  thing  wherein  your  helping  hand,  Mr 
Nettle,  can  be  o'  a  great  sufficiency/'  replied 
Andrew,  sedately.  "  My  master,  Mr  Vellum,  has 
one  Lord  Sandyford  for  a  client,  and  something 
has  been  put  out  in  the  papers  this  morning  con- 

\UL.  i.  K 


146  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

earning  his  leddy,  the  whilk  is  like  to  breed  a 
terrible  stramash."  1 

Nettle  was  instantaneously  smitten  with  the 
horrors  of  a  prosecution  for  a  libel,  and  the  sati- 
rical mirthfulness  with  which  he  had  received 
Andrew  was  turned  into  anxiety. 

"  Indeed  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  is  it  ?  What 
has  it  been  about  ?  In  what  paper  has  it  ap- 
peared ?  " 

"  I  can  tell  you  naething  o'  a'  that,"  said 
Andrew ;  "  but  I  would  gie  a  plack  and  a  baw- 
bee 2  to  ken  the  author.  Noo,  Mr  Nettle,  as 
ye're  acquaint  wi'  a'  the  jookery-cookery  of  news- 
making,  I  thought  that  aiblins  ye're  in  a  capacity 
to  throw  some  light  on  the  subject." 

Nettle  was  alarmed  and  disconcerted.  It  was 
of  no  less  importance  to  him  that  the  object  of 
our  hero's  visit  should  be  concealed  from  his  own 
principals  than  that  the  author  should  remain 
unknown  to  the  offended  parties. 

"  But  are  you  sure,  Mr  Wylie/'  said  he,  "  that 
the  paragraph  alluded  to  applies  to  Lady  Sandy- 
ford  ?  " 

"It  surely  does  that,"  replied  Andrew,  "or  it 
wouldna  hae  been  so  kenspeckle."  3 

Nettle  requested  Andrew  to  wait  till  he  could 
find  the  paper,  to  look  at  it,  but  in  reality  to  gain 
a  few  minutes  for  consideration. 

1  Stramash.     Disturbance. 

-  A  pluck  and  a  haicicc.     Sec  page  G4. 

3  Jii-iisjjccklt.'.     Easy  to  recognise. 


AN  EVENT  147 

"The  paragraph  is,  I  see,  in  our  paper,"  said 
Nettle,  returning  with  the  paper  in  his  hand  : 
"but  it  does  not  apply  to  Lady  Sandyford.  It 
can  only  have  been  supposed  to  allude  to  her 
ladyship  by  having  followed  the  account  of  the 
preparations  for  her  assembly." 

Andrew,  on  looking  at  it,  saw  that  this  expla- 
nation was  feasible ;  indeed  that,  without  the 
context,  it  was  a  very  harmless  pasquinade  ;  and 
he  observed,  "  But  it's  been  an  awfu'  mistake, 
Mr  Nettle.  Is  there  no  a  possibility  of  an  ex- 
planation ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  ! "  cried  Nettle  gaily,  relieved  from 
his  apprehensions  by  perceiving  the  harmless 
nature  of  the  paragraph  when  considered  by 
itself;  and  aware  that,  if  the  matter  should 
ever  come  to  any  legal  issue,  it  would  be  in 
his  power  to  plead  the  advertisemental  account  of 
the  preparations,  by  producing  the  original  paper 
from  which  it  was  taken,  and  arguing  that  the 
paragraph  was  a  separate  and  distinct  communi- 
cation. "  Oh  yes  ! "  he  replied,  "  it  is  easy  to 
remove  entirely  the  impression  produced  by  this 
mistake  ;  but,  Andrew,  ye  should  know  that  folks 
in  London  cannot  afford  their  time  for  nothing, 
and  that  characters,  like  other  things,  when  they 
are  bought  must  be  paid  for." 

"  Very  true,  Mr  Nettle,"  saia  our  hero  dryly ; 
"and  when  they  are  stown,  the  thief  maim  not 
only  make  restitution,  but  may  be  made  to  suffer 
punishment." 


148  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Nettle  looked  at  Andrew,  incredulous  to  his 
own  ears,  not  having  previously  conceived  him 
possessed  of  any  such  acuteness ;  and  his  newly 
recovered  self-possession  was  completely  overset 
when  Wylie  added,  "  I  fear  and  doobt,  Mr  Nettle, 
that  ye  ken  mair  about  this  than  ye  let  on ; 
and  I  would  counsel  you,  as  a  frien',  to  put 
your  shoulder  to  the  wheel  and  get  out  o'  the 
mire  and  on  your  way  rejoicing  wi'  a'  the  speed 
ye  dow.1  For  if  there's  to  be  ony  compounding 
about  this  black  job  it  will  hae  to  come  frae 
your  side  : — but  I  say  naething.  My  betters  will 
judge  for  themselves.  If  you  hae  brewed  gude 
yill,  ye'll  drink  the  better.  A  lie's  a  lie  onyhoo, 
Mr  Nettle,  and  a  leddy  o'  quality's  name  is  no  to 
be  blotted  wi'  newspapers'  ink  wi'  impunity ;  so 
ye'll  just  comport  yoursel',  Mr  Nettle,  as  ye  think 
right." 

The  reporter,  finding  he  had  not  the  simpleton 
to  deal  with  that  he  had  supposed, — for  his 
first  idea  was  that  the  countess  might  be  willing 
to  pay  handsomely  for  an  effectual  contradiction 
of  the  slander, — he  changed  his  tune,  and  said, 
"  You  have  misunderstood  me,  Mr  Wylie :  all 
I  meant  was  that  before  this  unfortunate  mis- 
take gets  into  the  other  papers  I  could  by  my 
influence  stop  it ;  but,  as  it  must  be  at  some 
expense  to  them,  and  loss  of  time  to  me,  I  trust 
it  will  be  considered." 

"  Considered  ? "  cried  our  hero,  indignantly. 
1  To  dow.  To  be  able. 


AN  EVENT  149 

"  A  flail  to  the  laitheron's  hurdies.1  Mr  Nettle,  I 
suspect  and  believe  that  your  han's  no  clear  o'  the 
coom  2  o'  this  wark.  Get  it  wash't — get  it  wash't ; 
or  it  may  be  dried  wi'  a  hempen  towel." 

And  so  saying,  he  left  the  office,  where  the 
astonished  Nettle,  who  had  not  deemed  him 
many  degrees  above  idiocy,  stood  enchained  to 
the  spot.  No  time,  however,  was  to  be  lost.  In 
the  course  of  the  briefest  space  possible  Nettle 
was  round  to  all  the  other  offices,  and  got  not 
only  the  scandal  strangled,  but  even  paragraphs 
inserted  which  had  the  effect  of  turning  the  sus- 
picion so  pointed  against  Lady  Sandyford  entirely 
in  another  direction.  But  to  her,  however,  the 
mischief  was  done. 

The  business  on  which  Andrew  had  been  sent 
to  Sandyford  House  was  not  of  any  very  pressing 
importance,  and  he  was  sensible  that  he  had 
already  greatly  exceeded  his  time ;  but,  confident 
that  the  service  in  which  he  was  engaged  would 
excuse  a  much  greater  trespass,  instead  of  going 
from  the  newspaper-office  to  Mr  Vellum's  cham- 
bers, he  went  directly  back  to  Sandyford  House, 
and  reached  the  door  at  the  same  time  with  Mor- 
daunt,  who,  slightly  glancing  at  his  insignificant 
appearance,  regarded  him  as  some  tradesman's 
messenger,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  when  he 
was  ushered,  along  with  himself,  into  the  library. 
The  countess  was  upstairs  with  her  father. 

1  Laithcroris  hurdies.     Worthless  creature's  loins. 
-  Coom.     Dust :  dirt. 


150  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  You  belong  to  the  family,  I  presume  ?  "  said 
the  country  gentleman,  with  an  accent  of  in- 
terrogation. 

"I  canna  just  say  that/'  was  Andrew's  answer; 
"but  I'm  concerned  for  them." 

Mordaunt  knew  not  what  to  think  of  his  com- 
panion, and  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  with 
an  expression  of  the  most  ineffable  scorn  ;  but  the 
oddity  of  Andrew's  appearance  almost  instantly 
reversed  his  feelings. 

While  they  were  thus  conversing,  the  Marquis 
of  Avonside's  carriage,  which  had  driven  round 
the  square,  drew  up  at  the  door,  and  immediately 
after  his  lordship  handed  the  countess  in,  and, 
taking  his  place  beside  her,  was  instantly  con- 
veyed home.  The  servants  in  the  hall  were 
at  no  loss  to  guess  the  motives  and  complexion 
of  this  proceeding ;  and  one  of  the  footmen,  as 
soon  as  the  carriage  had  left  the  house,  informed 
Mordaunt  of  what  had  taken  place.  Andrew, 
on  hearing  this  news,  recollected  the  old  proverb, 
No  good  was  ever  got  by  meddling  between  man 
and  wife  ;  and  prudently  resolved  to  escape,  imme- 
diately from  the  scene  of  action. 

"  Will  ye,  sir,"  said  he  to  Mordaunt,  "  be 
pleased  to  tell  my  lord,  that  Andrew  Wylie  was 
at  the  newspaper-office,  and  found  out  there 
that  the  whole  tot  of  the  story  about  my  leddv's 
fox-paw  is  just  the  clishmaclaver  of  a  misleart l 

1  Clishmarlarer  <<f  a  misleart  reporter.  Tittle-tattle  of  a 
mischievous  reporter. 


AN  EVENT  151 

reporter,  and  he  needna  fash  himsel'  any  mair 
about  it." 

"  May  I  ask,  sir,"  said  Mordamit,  supposing 
that  Andrew  belonged  to  some  of  the  news- 
papers, which  at  that  time  were  chiefly  in  the 
hands  of  Scotchmen,  "  with  what  paper  you  are 
connected  ?  " 

"  Me  connectit  with  a  newspaper  !  Na,  na,  sir  ; 
I'm  of  an  honester  trade  :  I'm  learning  to  be  a 
writer  wi'  Mr  Vellum,  a  very  respectable  solicitor 
in  Lincoln's  Inn.  Only  I  hae  been  doing  a  bit 
job  between  ban's  for  my  leddy." 

Mordaunt  was  still  more  at  a  loss  than  ever  to 
comprehend  the  office  and  character  of  our  hero, 
and  would  have  entered  into  a  conversation  with 
him  more  particularly  relative  to  the  newspaper ; 
but  Andrew  was  apprehensive  that  he  had  already 
gone  too  far  with  a  stranger, — although,  by  che 
manner  in  which  Mordaunt  conducted  himself 
towards  the  servants,  he  perceived  that  he  con- 
sidered himself  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  their 
master.  Under  this  impression,  therefore,  lie 
moved  hastily  to  the  door  without  replying  to  a 
question  concerning  the  paragraph  ;  and,  with  a 
curious  and  significant  look  as  he  turned  the  bolt, 
said,  "  I  wish  you  a  vera  gude  morning." 


CHAPTER    XXII 

Negotiation. 

WHEN  the  earl  was  informed  by  Mordaunt  that 
the  countess  had  left  Sandyford  House  with  her 
father,  he  immediately  returned  home,  accom- 
panied by  his  friend.  Soon  after  this  Sir  Charles 
Runnington  called  ;  and,  on  being  shown  into  the 
library,  where  they  were  still  standing,  he  made  a 
low  and  very  formal  bow  to  the  earl,  and  then 
stated  that  he  was  commissioned  by  his  noble 
friend,  the  Marquis  of  Avonside,  to  inquire  what 
his  lordship  had  to  allege  against  the  conduct  of 
Lady  Sandyford. 

The  earl,  as  well  as  Mordaunt,  was  puzzled  by 
the  narrow  and  almost  technical  ground  which 
the  marquis  had  taken  ;  but  his  lordship  replied, 
"The  countess  herself  best  knows  for  what  reason 
she  has  quitted  her  home." 

"  Upon  that  point,"  said  Sir  Charles  Running- 
ton,  "  I  have  110  instructions." 

"Then,"  cried  the  earl,  sharply,  "the  only 
answer  I  can  return  is,  Let  her  ladyship  say  what 
she  wishes  me  to  do,  and  it  shall  be  instantly 
done." 


NEGOTIATION  153 

"  If  I  understood  Lord  Avonside  clearly/'  an- 
swered Sir  Charles,  "he  is  averse  to  any  formal 
separation ;  tiiid  the  countess  is  not  in  a  condition 
at  present  to  come  to  any  determination." 

"Everything  rests  with  herself,"  said  Lord 
Sandyford  with  emotion.  "  I  have  nothing  to 
desire  but  that  she  may  find  more  happiness 
elsewhere  than  I  fear  she  has  done  with  me. 
I  cannot  at  this  moment  say  what  it  is  in  my 
power  to  allow  her  for  a  separate  establishment ; 
but  to-morrow  I  shall.  Assure  her  that — 
He  could  say  no  more,  but  bowed  to  Sir  Charles 
and  left  the  room. 

"  This  is  a  most  unfortunate  affair/'  said 
Mordaunt. 

"  But  not  unexpected,  I  understand,"  replied 
Sir  Charles.  "  Her  ladyship's  family  have  long 
been  aware  of  her  situation." 

"Indeed!"  cried  Mordaunt;  "and  how  is  it 
that  Sandyford  was  never  informed  ?  Who  is  the 
paramour  ?  " 

"  Paramour ! "  exclaimed  Sir  Charles,  with  in- 
dignation. "  This  is  adding  cruelty  and  insult  to 
the  wrongs  which  she  has  already  suffered.  Lord 
Sandyford  knows  that  there  is  no  guilt  on  her 
part ;  she  has  long  been  the  victim  of  his  neg- 
ligence, and  her  reputation  is  blasted  by  the 
consequences." 

"  This  is  dreadful !  "  cried  Mordaunt.  "  Do 
you  mean  to  say  that,  although  the  levity  of  her 
conduct  has  been  so  notorious  as  to  become  the 


154  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

game  of  a  newspaper  pasquinade,  her  husband  is 
entirely  to  blame  ?  " 

"  Sir/'  replied  Sir  Charles,  formally,  "  I  did  not 
come  from  my  noble  friend,  her  father,  to  enter 
into  any  controversy  on  the  subject.  The  earl 
agrees  to  a  separation ;  and,  from  his  known 
character,  I  doubt  not  the  arrangement  will  be 
completed  in  a  satisfactory  manner.  I  must  con- 
fess, however,  that  I  have  been  surprised  at  his 
emotion ;  he  seemed  much  more  affected  than  I 
could  previously  have  imagined." 

"The  character  of  my  friend  is,  I  find,  not 
well  known,"  said  Mordaunt.  "But  I  hope  the 
separation  will  not  be  final." 

"  After  what  has  taken  place,  and  the  ex- 
perience they  have  had  of  each  other,  it  is  the 
best  thing  that  can  now  happen,"  replied  Sir 
Charles.  "  But  his  lordship  will  no  doubt  feel 
that  it  is  due  to  his  own  honour  to  investi- 
gate the  newspaper  calumny,  and  to  bear  tes- 
timony to  his  conviction  of  his  injured  lady's 
innocence." 

"  Is  there  no  chance  of  our  being  able  to  effect 
a  reconciliation  if  she  is  innocent  ?  " 

"  I  will  take  no  part  in  any  proceeding  having 
that  for  its  object,"  said  Sir  Charles.  "  My  noble 
friend  the  marquis  assures  me  that  Lady  Sandy- 
ford  is  one  of  the  worst-used  wives  in  the  world. 
I  rely  on  his  lordship's  honour  and  integrity  for 
the  truth  of  the  statement  ;  and  with  that  im- 
pression I  should  deem  myself  base,  indeed,  were 


NEGOTIATION  155 

I  to  recommend  anything  so  derogatory  as  the 
measure  you  suggest." 

Sir  Charles  then  left  the  room,  and  Mordaunt 
went  to  the  earl  in  his  own  apartment. 

Sir  Charles  Runnington  was  a  political  adherent 
of  the  Marquis  of  Avonside  ;  and  had  been  em- 
ployed in  several  diplomatic  missions,  in  which, 
it  was  said,  he  showed  great  self-command,  and 
upheld  the  dignity  of  his  sovereign  with  all 
propriety  :  but  none  of  his  missions  ever  were 
successful.  The  parliamentary  adversaries  of  the 
marquis  said  that  this  was  owing  to  his  inability 
to  understand  the  spirit  of  his  instructions  ;  but 
it  could  never  be  shown  that  in  any  one  in- 
stance he  did  not  adhere  with  a  most  surprising 
constancy  to  the  letter.  Besides  this  political 
connection,  he  was  related  to  the  countess  by 
her  mother  ;  on  which  account  the  marquis  had 
requested  his  interference.  But  although  no  man 
could  well  be  really  less  qualified  to  manage  any 
affair  of  delicacy  to  a  favourable  and  concilia- 
tory issue,  Sir  Charles  possessed  many  external 
attributes  which  may  be  termed  the  minting 
of  a  gentleman — the  marks  which  designate  the 
coin,  but  convey  no  idea  of  the  intrinsic  value 
and  purity  of  the  metal.  He  was  grave  and 
fair-spoken,  precise  in  his  language,  erect  in 
his  carriage,  neat  in  his  dress,  and  his  hair 
always  powdered  and  arranged  exactly  in  the 
same  manner  as  he  wore  it  when  first  introduced 
at  court. 


156  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

On  returning  to  the  marquis,  he  gave  his 
lordship  a  very  circumstantial  account  of  what 
had  taken  place  with  the  earl,  and  also  of  what 
had  passed  with  Mordaunt.  Although  this  re- 
port was  the  precise  truth  as  far  as  it  went, 
yet  it  conveyed  no  idea  of  the  manner  in  which 
his  lordship  had  been  affected  ;  and  even  what 
was  said  suffered  in  the  repetition  by  the  cold 
medium  through  which  it  was  conveyed. 

The  marquis  was,  in  some  points  of  character, 
not  unlike  Sir  Charles  ;  but  he  was  older,  and 
what  was  precision  in  the  one,  approaching  to 
pedantry,  was  sedate  pomposity  in  the  other. 
The  accident  of  happening  in  the  outset  of  life 
to  be  successful  in  the  management  of  some 
of  those  trifling  parliamentary  matters  that  the 
ministers  of  the  day  are  in  the  practice  of  assign- 
ing to  the  hereditary  supporters  of  government, 
he  was  taken  with  the  conceit  of  being  a  states- 
man. In  the  deliberations  of  the  senate  he 
always  took  a  part,  and  talked  long,  and  said 
as  little  to  the  purpose  as  any  other  speaker 
on  either  side  of  the  House.  But,  notwith- 
standing the  prosing  inefficacy  of  his  public 
conduct,  he  was  upon  the  whole  what  is  called 
a  steady  character, — uniformly  voting  with  every 
successive  batch  of  ministers,  and  never  asking 
more  than  a  reasonable  share  of  official  patron- 
age. In  private  life  he  was  punctual  and  honour- 
able ;  and,  although  he  never  said  a  witty  thing 
nor  understood  a  wise  one,  he  possessed  many 


NEGOTIATION  157 

of  the  most  respectable  traits  in  the  domestic 
character  of  an  English  nobleman.  It  is  need- 
less to  add,  however,  that  he  was  nevertheless 
not  at  all  fitted  to  act  the  prudentest  part  in 
the  peculiarities  of  his  daughter's  situation. 

He  communicated  to  the  countess  a  faithful 
account  of  what  had  passed  ;  but  his  narrative 
was  still  more  deficient  in  conveying  a  true 
impression  of  what  had  taken  place  than  even 
that  of  Sir  Charles  :  insomuch  that  her  ladyship's 
humiliation  was  greatly  augmented  to  find  that 
her  husband  was  seemingly  (as  it  appeared  to 
her)  so  glad  to  be  rid  of  her  on  her  own  terms. 
She  said  nothing,  however,  but  requested  to  be 
left  alone ;  and  the  moment  that  her  father 
had  retired,  she  gave  vent  to  her  feelings  in 
long-continued  weeping.  This  greatly  relieved 
her  mind,  and  she  was  able  afterwards  to  reflect 
calmly  on  her  situation.  She  recalled  to  mind 
some  of  those  inadvertent  sarcasms  in  which 
the  earl  first  manifested  his  dislike  of  her  passion 
for  what  he  called  self-exhibition,  and  of  the 
artificial  equality  of  her  manners,  which  he  some- 
times peevishly  derided  as  hypocrisy ;  and  she 
was  sensible  that  there  must  have  been  some 
error  in  her  system,  since  it  had  failed  to  in- 
terest, or,  rather,  since  it  had  served  to  dis- 
gust, the  only  man  whom  she  really  cared  to 
please.  The  behaviour  of  Mrs  Harridan,  too,  had 
taught  her  an  important  lesson.  In  the  course  of 
their  short  interview  that  morning,  the  sordid- 


158  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

ness  of  her  art  had  been  so  plainly  disclosed 
that  it  necessarily  produced  a  deep  and  a  re- 
sentful impression.  Lady  Sandyford  could  not 
disguise  to  herself  the  practical  illustration  that* 
it  afforded  of  those  maxims  which  she  had  been 
instructed  to  respect  as  the  essential  principles 
of  fashionable  life, — as  if  there  were  anything 
in  fashion  that  could  be  at  variance  with  the 
ties  and  charms  which  constitute  the  cement  of 
society. 

The  conflict  of  these  reflections  had  an  im- 
mediate effect  on  her  ladyship's  mind ;  and  from 
that  hour  she  resolved  to  act  another  part,  more 
agreeable  to  her  own  original  nature  and  char- 
acter. The  rock  was  indeed  now  struck ;  and 
the  stream  that  was  to  spread  freshness  in  the 
desert  of  her  wedded  life  began  to  flow. 

Her  first  inclination  was  to  return  home  to  her 
husband  immediately,  and  express  to  him  frankly 
what  she  thought  and  suffered  ;  but  this  a  false 
pride  prevented  her  from  doing,  even  while  she 
confessed  to  herself  that  she  had  been  too  rashly 
induced  by  her  father  to  abandon  the  conjugal 
roof. 

The  marquis  was  obliged,  or,  rather,  so  felt 
himself,  to  attend  the  House  of  Lords  that  even- 
ing :  he  was  indeed  anxious  to  take  a  part  in  the 
debate,  chiefly  to  show  how  lightly  he  considered 
the  derogatory  predicament  in  which  his  daughter 
had  been  placed.  Sir  Charles  Runnington  was  at 
the  same  time  instructed  by  his  lordship  to  go 


NEGOTIATION  159 

round  the  club-houses  in  St  James's  Street,  in 
order  to  inform  the  most  distinguished  male 
gossips  of  those  fraternities,  that  the  separation 
of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Sandyford,  so  far 
from  being  occasioned  by  any  imputed  guilt  on 
the  part  of  her  ladyship,  was  sought  by  herself, 
and  advised  and  sanctioned  by  her  father. 

When  the  marquis  returned  in  the  evening,  he 
found  the  countess^  alone  in  the  drawing-room, 
comparatively  at  her  ease,  and  attended  by 
Flounce,  her  own  maid.  As  he  had  made  what 
he  deemed  an  able  speech  (although  it  contained 
neither  fact  nor  argument  to  illustrate  the  ex- 
pediency of  the  measure  he  endeavoured  to 
advocate),  he  was  on  excellent  terms  with  him- 
self, and  complimented  the  countess  on  the 
fortitude  with  which  she  sustained  herself.  But 
instead  of  replying  to  him  in  the  same  strain  of 
good-humour,  she  briefly  told  him  that  she  was 
arranging  Avith  Flounce  to  quit  London  next 
morning ;  and  that  it  was  her  intention  to  go  at 
once  to  Elderbower,  the  seat  of  the  dowager 
Lady  Sandyford,  her  mother-in-law. 

"  Is  your  ladyship  of  a  sound  mind  in  this 
determination  ? "  exclaimed  the  marquis,  in  his 
oratorical  manner.  "  Do  you  not  expose  your- 
self to  a  most  unwelcome  reception  ?  Reception, 
did  I  say  ? — It  may  be  a  repulse." 

"  Xo  matter,"  replied  the  countess,  in  a  calm, 
firm  voice,  "  I  will  make  the  attempt.  If  I  stay 
here,  or  if  I  go  to  any  of  my  own  relations,  I  lend 


160  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

colouring  to  the  slanders  in  circulation  against 
me ;  but  if  I  take  up  my  abode  with  the  mother 
of  my  husband, — and  I  am  sure  she  will  receive 
me  kindly, — the  malice  o  the  world  will  be 
rebuked  and  silenced." 

The  countess  perceived  that  her  father  was 
not  satisfied  with  the  resolution  she  had  taken ; 
but  as  it  was  the  most  expedient,  indeed  the 
best,  which  at  the  moment  she  could  adopt,  this 
gave  her  no  pain,  and  she  soon  after  wished  him 
good-night. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

Perplexities. 

UURING  the  remainder  of  the  day  after  the 
countess  left  Sandyford  House,  the  earl  continued 
uneasy,  irritable,  and  thoughtful.  Mordaunt  dined 
with  him,  and  in  the  evening  he  began  to  rally 
a  little ;  but  in  the  midst  of  his  jocularity,  (for 
naturally  he  was  disposed  to  indulge  his  fancy  in 
a  humorous  play  upon  the  passing  topics  of  the 
moment),  he  would  suddenly  fall  into  fits  of  ab- 
straction, from  which  he  as  suddenly  recovered 
himself,  as  if  awakening  from  a  trance  of  which 
he  had  been  unconscious.  His  friend  saw  his 
mental  struggle,  and  exerted  himself  in  every 
possible  manner  to  draw  him  from  the  pressure 
of  his  unhappy  thoughts  ;  but  all  his  efforts 
proved  unavailing,  and  at  last  he  said,  "  Sandy- 
ford,  this  will  not  do :  you  cannot,  I  perceive 
plainly,  meet  this  event  with  that  indifference 
which  you  have  affected,  and  are  so  strangely 
ambitious  as  to  endeavour  still  to  maintain,  even 
before  me." 

"I  confess  it,"  replied  his  lordship;  "and  I 
should  have  borne  it  even  more  weakly  had 

VOL.  i.  1G1  L 


162  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Augusta  been  really  guilty.  But  how  can  I 
invite  a  reunion,  when  that  old  mandarin,  Sir 
Charles  Runnington,  declares  my  own  behaviour 
has  been  such  that  her  friends,  as  well  as  herself, 
are  desirous  of  the  separation  ?  Now,  if  I  had 
thought  she  cared  half  the  value  of  an  odd  trick 
for  me,  or  even  could  but  have  cared,  I  would 
have  been  a  very  different  sort  of  a  husband. 
However,  the  Rubicon  is  passed ;  but  one  thing 
at  least  I  may  still  try,  and  that  is  to  prove  that 
I  am  not  altogether  the  irreclaimable  Don  Juan 
which  the  world  so  charitably  supposes." 

The  manner  in  which  this  was  said,  though 
generally  in  a  tone  of  freedom  and  gaiety,  had 
yet  an  accent  of  sadness  that  moved  the  com- 
passion of  Mordaunt ;  and  he  contemplated  the 
endeavoured  cheerfulness  of  his  friend,  as  he 
would  have  looked  upon  a  sleeping  infant  covered 
with  a  lace  veil, — a  sight  which,  notwithstanding 
the  health,  the  smile,  and  the  bloom  that  shines 
through,  often  suggests  melancholy  associations 
to  the  affectionate  heart. 

"  I  think,  Sandy  ford,  you  would  feel  yourself 
better  were  you  to  be  more  communicative,"  said 
Mordaunt.  "  There  can  be  nothing  in  your  situa- 
tion that  a  friend  may  not  know." 

"True,"  replied  the  earl;  "but  a  man  seldom 
chooses  his  friend  to  be  the  confidant  of  his  sins. 
I  have  been  worse,  perhaps,  than  you  imagine, 
though  I  believe  not  quite  so  bad  as  the  world 
has  represented  me.  But  I  have  done  enough  of 


PERPLEXITIES  1G3 

ill  to  know  that  the  task  I  undertake  is,  not  only 
to  make  a  character,  but  to  recover  one.  How- 
ever, let  us  bid  adieu  to  the  gloomy  pile  of  my 
concerns  for  the  present,  and  tell  me,  Mordaunt, 
something  of  your  own — the  affair  with  Miss 
Beauchamp.  When  is  the  wedding  to  be  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  say  the  truth,  my  lord,"  replied 
Mordaunt,  laughingly,  "  although  it  is  a  settled 
point  between  us,  there  is  yet  a  great  impedi- 
ment to  be  overcome.  The  baronet,  her  father, 
it  seems,  many  years  ago,  when  Julia  was  but  a 
child,  made  a  compact  Avith  his  neighbour,  the 
late  Mr  Birchland,  that  she  should  be  married  to 
Jack  Birchland,  then  quite  a  boy  ;  and  if  Birch- 
land  will  take  her,  he  swears  nobody  else  shall 
have  her." 

"  Ah,  me  !  for  aught  that  ever  I  could  learn, 
the  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth/' 
cried  his  lordship  ;  —  "  and  Birchland  will  be  a 
cursed  fool  if  he  don't,  begging  your  pardon." 

"  Ay,  but  there  are  two  words  to  a  bargain  : 
Julia  has  something  herself  to  say  in  the  busi- 
ness," replied  Mordaunt. 

"  Then  Birchland  is  really  inclined  to  stand  by 
the  compact  ?  "  said  the  earl. 

"  I'm  half  afraid  he  is;  and  (what  is  more)  Julia 
herself  has  some  suspicion  of  the  same  sort." 

"  Xowr,  I  understand  the  whole  affair,"  ex- 
claimed the  earl,  laughing  and  interrupting  him  : 
"  you  are  come  to  London  to  meet  her,  and  a 
stolen  match  is  in  contemplation." 


164  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Mordaunt,  somewhat 
gravely.  "  Miss  Beauchamp  will  not  submit  to 
anything  so  derogatory  to  herself;  but  it  seems 
that  her  cousin,  Letitia  Irby,  has  taken  a  fancy  for 
Birchland,  and  our  immediate  object  is  to  make 
them  man  and  wife,  and  by  that  means  frus- 
trate or  defeat  the  pertinacious  designs  of  Sir 
Thomas." 

"  There  are  no  such  ingenious  nest-builders, 
after  all,  as  you  birds  of  the  bowers,"  cried  the 
earl,  gaily ;  but,  checking  himself,  added,  "  The 
plot  is  good — very  good ;  but  how  is  it  to  be 
brought  to  a  bearing  ?  " 

"  Julia  has  persuaded  her  father  to  come  to 
town,"  said  Mordaunt,  "and  Miss  Irby  is  with 
them.  They  arrived  this  morning.  Birchland  is 
expected  in  the  course  of  a  few  days." 

"  Were  Birchland  one  of  our  town-bred  sparrows, 
and  not  a  chaffinch  of  the  grove,"  replied  the  earl, 
"  I  should  advise  the  pretty  Letitia  to  coo  for 
lovers  amidst  her  native  shades  ;  but,  as  I  doubt 
riot  he  is  as  guileless  as  a  blackbird,  no  harm 
may  come  of  their  billing  even  in  a  London 
cage.  However,  we  shall  see." 

Mordaunt,  during  this  sally,  looked  seriously  at 
the  earl,  and  said  gravely,  "  Your  mind,  Sandyford, 
I  am  sorry  to  see,  is  accustomed  to  regard  lightly 
some  things  which  you  were  once  in  the  habit 
of  considering  very  differently.  Birchland  were  a 
villain  if  he  could  take  advantage  of  a  fond  girl's 
innocent  affections." 


PERPLEXITIES  Ifi5 

His  lordship  blushed,  and  was  for  a  moment 
out  of  countenance ;  but,  recovering  his  usual 
familiarity,  replied,  "  You  John  Bulls  of  the 
country  serve  up  your  morality  in  the  husk ;  a 
man  of  pleasure  among  you  cannot  taste  a  kernel, 
without  being  supposed  to  have  cracked  the  Deca- 
logue. That  same  word  villain,  is  a  whoreson 
phrase — dowlas,  filthy  dowlas.  But,"  he  added, 
in  a  tone  so  deep  ancl  emphatic  that  it  made  the 
heart  of  Mordaunt  vibrate  in  sympathetic  anguish, 
"  the  word,  however,  suits  the  action,  but,  in  using 
it,  I  suppose  you  forgot  at  the  moment  what  my 
wife  and  her  friends  think  of  me." 

Mordaunt  for  several  seconds  was  unable  to 
make  any  answer,  and  then  he  added,  "  Your 
whole  life,  Saridyford,  has  been  a  riddle.  The 
town  term  of  it  has  distressed  all  those  who 
esteemed  you,  and  who  cherished  expectations 
which  you  were  once  able  to  realise." 

"  I  am  still  able,"  cried  the  earl,  with  a  generous 
confidence  in  his  own  powers  ;  "  but  the  jade  must 
go  to  grass.  I  intend,  with  all  convenient  speed, 
to  settle  my  townly  affairs,  and  then  begin  another 
course  of  being  at  Chastington  Hall — an  elysium, 
as  my  mother  has  often  told  me,  where  the  manes 
of  my  ancestors  (in  the  shape,  I  suppose,  of  old 
portraits)  would  scowl  their  brave  encouragement 
on  my  emulous  endeavours  to  revive  the  faded 
lustre  of  their  blood.  But  to  that,  as  to  many 
other  cf  the  good  old  dowager's  saws  and  sayings, 
I  have  been  no  better  than  the  infidel.  However, 


166  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

I  am  resolved  for  a  time  to  take  up  my  abode  at 
Chastington,  and  by  the  post  to-day  I  sent  orders 
to  prepare  for  my  reception.  Were  you  not  so 
engaged,  I  would  ask  you  to  go  with  me,  for  I 
believe  it  is  a  huge  old  Aim-lladcliffe  place,  a 
spectrey  surrounded  by  a  rookery,  which  at  one 
time  I  was  on  the  point  of  selling  on  account 
of  its  distance  from  town,  and  the  red-haired 
bumpkins  that  came  up  from  it  occasionally  to 
see  London,  and  to  keep  their  lord  and  lady  in 
hot  water,  and  their  fellows  in  the  hall  in  laughter, 
all  the  time  they  stayed." 

Mordaunt  smiled  at  the  latter  reason  for 
parting  with  the  ancestral  residence  of  all  the 
Sandyfords. 

"  Upon  my  honour,"  said  his  lordship,  "  there 
is  more  truth  in  it  than  you  think.  You  can 
have  no  conception  how  much  we  were  plagued 
by  the  sons  of  the  patriarchal  fixtures  of  Chas- 
tington Hall  coming  here  to  learn  the  craft  and 
mystery  of  footmanry ;  and  the  worst  of  it  was 
that,  after  they  were  initiated  in  all  the  tricks  of 
the  trade,  I  was  obliged  to  give  them  characters 
to  my  acquaintance,  in  the  perfect  conviction  that 
any  principle  of  honesty  or  sobriety,  which  they 
brought  with  them  from  the  country,  was  entirely 
lost  in  this  house.  The  possession  of  the  place, 
indeed,  made  me  feel  as  if  I  kept  a  roguery  for 
the  supply  of  the  London  market ;  and  conscience, 
with  a  few  secondary  considerations  arising  from 
losses  at  play,  urged  me  to  part  with  it.  But 


PERPLEXITIES  167 

nobody  could  be  found  rich  enough,  or  foolish 
enough,  to  make  the  purchase." 

"  Surely  you  have  never  seen  Chastington,"  said 
Mordaunt,  shocked  that  his  lordship  should  think 
with  so  much  levity  of  parting  with  a  domain 
and  mansion  which,  for  many  ages,  a  long  line 
of  noble  ancestors  had  successively  delighted  to 
enrich  and  adorn. 

"  Oh,  never !  A  hundred  and  seventy  miles  from 
London,  in  a  midland  county  :  not  even  a  market- 
town  within  half  a  score  of  leagues  :  only  a  village 
at  the  gate,  with  a  single  ale  -  house,  where  a 
cuckoo-clock  chicks  at  one  side  of  the  chimney- 
place,  and  the  curate,  smoking  his  pipe  in  an 
antique  elbow-chair,  churms  l  at  the  other.  Was 
it  possible  to  vegetate  with  Lady  Sandyford  ?  At 
our  marriage,  indeed,  I  did  intend  to  make  it  our 
principal  residence  ;  but  a  blight  fell  upon  all  my 
intentions  of  that  period,  and  I  never  since  could 
endure  the  idea  of  looking  at  Chastington,  till  the 
adventure  of  this  morning  reminded  me  of  what 
my  mother  used  to  say  about  the  presiding  genii 
that  inhabit  there." 

After  some  further  general  conversation  rela- 
tive to  the  earl's  plans,  Mordaunt  rose  to  bid 
him  good-night. 

"Come  to  me  to-morrow  as  early  as  you  can," 

said  his  lordship,  as  he  shook  him  by  the  hand  at 

parting  ;  "  and  in  the  meantime  put  as  charitable 

a  construction  as  possible  on  anything  that  may 

1  Churms.     Hums. 


168  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

have  had  a  tendency  to  lower  me  in  your  esteem. 
I  am  not,  my  dear  fellow,  half  so  bad  as  I  have 
long  seemed  ;  all  that  which  others  regarded  as 
the  inebriation  of  pleasure  was  to  me  the  frenzy 
of  a  fever.  My  outward  and  my  inner  man  were 
in  afflicting  opposition.  The  voluptuous  draught 
that  I  was  seen  to  swallow  so  greedily  was  but 
drunk  as  an  opiate  to  allay  the  mental  agony 
which  I  suffered.  I  felt  as  if  the  spring  and 
fountain-head  of  all  my  motives  and  happiness 
were  cut  off,  and  the  future  rendered  an  arid  and 
devouring  desert.  A  worm  was  in  the  core  of 
my  heart,  and  a  fire  in  my  brain ;  and  for  three 
years  my  spirit  was  parched  with  inextinguishable 
despaii*.  My  dissipation  was  martyrdom  ;  and  yet 
I  wore  the  mask  of  a  joyous  libertine  so  well 
that  my  hidden  misery  was  never  discovered. 
But  the  mask,  Mordaunt,  is  now  off,  the  crisis  of 
my  distemper  is  past ;  and,  as  the  Faculty  say,  a 
change  of  scene,  with  country  air  and  exercise, 
will  perhaps  complete  the  cure." 

During  this  address,  which  his  lordship  de- 
livered with  considerable  energy,  while  he  still 
held  his  friend  by  the  hand,  Mordaunt  was  greatly 
moved  ;  and  at  the  conclusion,  when  the  vehe- 
mence of  the  earl  had  subsided  into  a  more 
familiar  strain,  he  said — 

"  Sandyford,  you  ought  to  have  told  me  what 
you  Avere  suffering.  It  was  too  much  to  put  to 
hazard  fame,  fortune,  and  self-respect,  without 
consulting  any  friend." 


PERPLEXITIES  ]  (J9 

"  It  was/'  replied  his  lordship ;  "  I  am  sensible 
it  was  ;  but  if  I  could  have  been  so  prudent  as  to 
have  taken  the  advice  of  any  friend,  I  should  not 
then  have  been  so  mad  as  to  require  it.  There 
are  states  of  the  mind  which  friends  should  see 
are  morbid,  without  being  told.  One  of  the  worst 
symptomsof  intellectual  distemperature  is  the  effort 
which  the  patient  makes  to  conceal  his  malady. 
Could  it  have  been  for  a  moment  imagined  by  my 
friends,  had  they  thought  seriously  on  the  case,  that 
I  would  at  once  forego  all  my  early  habits  of  emu- 
lation, the  love  of  fame,  and  the  desire  of  power, 
and  tie  myself  to  the  chariot-wheels  of  hazard 
and  sensuality,  without  a  cause  ?  No,  Mordaunt : 
when  you  heard  of  my  falling  off,  you  ought  to 
have  come  to  me.  It  was  not  for  you  to  stand 
aloof  and  see  me  perish  ;  for,  without  vanity,  I 
may  now  say,  humiliated  as  I  am  by  the  sense  of 
my  fruitless  talents  and  abortive  life,  that  you  at 
least  knew  my  original  worth." 

The  feelings  of  Mordaunt  were  overcome,  and 
hastily  bidding  his  lordship  good-night  he  rushed 
from  the  room  to  conceal  the  emotion  he  was  un- 
able any  longer  to  control.  The  heart  of  the  earl 
was  relieved  by  what  had  passed  :  the  fine  natural 
elasticity  of  his  mind,  which  enabled  him  to  pass 
with  such  felicitous  ease  from  one  topic  to  another, 
dilated  out  in  the  cheerful  anticipation  of  being 
yet  able  to  redeem  some  portion  of  the  promise  of 
his  youth  ;  and  he  retired  to  his  bed-chamber  in  a 
more  serene  and  temperate  mood  than  he  had 


170  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

for  several  years  enjoyed.  The  only  anxiety  he 
suffered  was  on  account  of  his  lady,  and  he  sighed 
as  he  said,  looking  at  her  picture,  which  hung 
over  the  mantelpiece,  "  And  so,  Augusta,  you  also 
are  gone.  I  thought  but  last  night  I  could  have 
better  spared  you.  No  matter,  if  you  are  happy. 
You  have  all  the  kindest  wishes  of  a  man  that 
loved  you  too  well." 


A  Man  of  Business. 

the  time  when  the  earl  had  requested  Vellum 
to  be  with  him  in  the  morning,  the  solicitor,  punc- 
tual to  the  hour,  was  at  Sandyford  House,  with  a 
hasty  sketch  of  the  state  of  his  lordship's  pecuniary 
concerns.  He  had  heard  something  of  what  had 
happened ;  but  the  true  circumstances  were  so 
different  from  the  report  that  he  could  not  help 
saying,  "I  presume  there  will  be  no  proceedings." 

"None  in  your  way,"  replied  the  earl  dryly,  as 
he  perused  the  statement ;  adding,  "  This  looks 
better,  Vellum,  than  I  expected.  Have  you  any 
account  of  my  debts  and  mortgages  ?  " 

Vellum  said,  somewhat  diffidently,  that  he  had, 
and  produced  a  paper.  The  earl,  on  looking  it 
over,  was  surprised  to  observe  that  Vellum  him- 
self was  by  far  the  most  considerable  creditor. 
He  took  no  notice  of  this  circumstance,  however. 
For  the  money  which  he  had  borrowed  at  different 
times  he  had  paid  an  enormous  rate  of  usury ; 
but  he  had  never  any  reason  before  to  suspect 
that  Vellum  was  the  real  lender,  nor  did  he  do  so 
at  this  time.  He  only  thought  (what  was  indeed 

171 


172  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  fact)  that  Vellum  had  afterwards  bought  up 
the  securities. 

While  the  earl  was  perusing  the  list,  Vellum 
watched  his  eye  anxiously,  but  could  discover 
nothing  of  what  was  passing  in  his  mind.  On 
returning  it  to  him,  however,  his  lordship  said, 
somewhat  emphatically,  "  Vellum,  this  is  a  black 
account :  we  must  use  our  best  endeavours  to 
bleach  the  complexion  of  some  of  these  ill- 
favoured  items." 

The  solicitor  felt  the  full  force  and  weight  of 
this  remark,  and  said  at  once,  "  I  am  aware,  my 
lord,  that  some  parts  of  it  are  not  perhaps  exactly 
what  your  lordship  expected  to  see :  I  allude  to 
my  own  claims.  But  the  truth  of  the  case  is 
simply  this :  Had  I  not  redeemed  the  bonds 
which  constitute  my  claim,  some  other  would ; 
and  I  do  not  think  that  any  person  into  whose 
possession  they  might  have  come  would  have 
been  more  delicate  than  myself.  I  might,  cer- 
tainly, as  your  lordship's  professional  agent,  have 
resisted  the  debt  altogether  ;  and,  in  that  manner, 
the  obligation  to  pay  them  might  have  been  got 
rid  of.  But  your  lordship  would  never  suffer  me 
to  establish  a  legal  right  at  the  expense  of  a 
moral  wrong.  I  might  also,  my  lord — for  such 
things  are  not  uncommon — have  exhibited  the 
claim  under  different  names,  by  which  my  interest 
in  the  business  would  have  been  dissimulated ; 
but  I  am  incapable  of  submitting  to  practise  any 
such  equivocation." 


A  MAN  OF  BUSINESS  173 

"  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  Vellum,  with  your 
integrity  as  a  man  of  business/'  replied  his  lord- 
ship ;  "  and  the  candour  of  your  declaration 
confirms  me  in  the  justice  that  I  have  uniformly, 
in  my  own  mind,  done  to  you  as  such.  My 
confidence  in  you  is  none  abated,  and  I  do  not 
consider  the  profit  which  you  may  have  gained 
by  these  dealings  as  procured  at  my  expense  ; 
but,  doubtless,  the  only  reason  which  induced  you 
not  to  tell  me  that  I  might  have  occasionally 
redeemed  the  pound  of  flesh  arose  from  your 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  state  of  my  circum- 
stances, arising  from  your  professional  trusts  as 
my  agent." 

Vellum  bit  his  lips  ;  but  the  earl  in  a  moment 
changed  his  tone,  and  said  cheerfully,  "  However, 
the  matter  is  done,  and  it  must  not  be  repeated. 
I  wish  you  all  happiness  with  your  gains ;  and 
the  sooner  they  are  realised,  the  more  I  shall  be 
content.  But  one  thing  you  must  do  for  me,  in 
the  meantime.  I  have  paid  more  attention  to 
that  Scottish  curiosity,  Wylie,  than  perhaps  I 
ought  to  have  done.  He,  however,  served  to 
amuse  me  when  every  other  thing  had  become 
stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable  ;  and  he  cannot  but 
have  formed  some  expectations  from  my  interest 
or  influence.  I  believe  he  is  honest." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  doubt  it,"  repKed  Vellum  ; 
"but  his  talents  are  not  of  a  high  order,  nor  has 
his  education  been  of  the  best  sort." 

"The   being,"   cried   his   lordship,   gaily,    "has 


174  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

not  half  the  capacity,  I  believe,  of  a  young  ele- 
phant ;  but  his  very  deficiencies  have  been  as 
talents  with  me  ;  and  now  that  I  am  determined 
to  quit  London,  I  wish  to  do  something  for  him. 
You  must  take  him  into  partnership,  Vellum." 

The  solicitor  was  thunderstruck ;  and  in  an 
accent  of  astonishment,  said,  "  My  lord,  it  is  not 
possible — he  is  too  young — he  knows  nothing  of 
business." 

"  He  is  old  enough  to  receive  profit,"  replied 
his  lordship,  coldly ;  "  nor  does  it  require  any 
particular  knowledge  to  do  so.  But,  perhaps,  you 
would  rather  give  him  a  salary." 

Vellum  bowed,  and  the  earl  continued  :  "  Then 
it  should  be  on  agreement  for  a  term  of  years — 
say  seven.  How  much  will  you  give  him  ?  " 

The  decision  of  character  which  the  earl  in  this 
interview  had  so  unexpectedly  manifested  over- 
awed Vellum,  who  had  hitherto  considered  him 
merely  as  a  common  man  of  fashion.  He  had 
never  once,  in  the  course  of  their  previous  in- 
tercourse, suspected  the  dormant  powers  of  his 
lordship's  mind,  which,  like  a  stream  long  dammed 
up,  and  mantled  over  with  water  -  weeds  and 
rushes,  seemed  incapable  of  being  applied  to  any 
effectual  purpose.  But  he  now  perceived  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  parry  with  such  a  character ; 
and,  therefore,  with  the  off-hand  alacrity  of  a 
man  of  the  world,  lie  replied,  "  It  is  your  lord- 
ship's pleasure  to  promote  the  fortune  of  the 
young  man,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  comply  with 


A  MAN  OF  BUSINESS  175 

your  lordship's  reasonable  wishes  on  the  subject.  I 
will  give  him  five  hundred  pounds  a  year  for  seven 
years ;  although  I  do  not  think  he  will  ever  make 
any  available  proficiency  in  his  profession." 

"  You  do  not,  then,  seriously  think  that  he 
is  likely  to  attain  eminence  as  a  lawyer  ?  "  said 
the  earl,  earnestly. 

"  I  do  not,"  was  the  emphatic  answer. 

"  Then,"  replied  his  lordship,  "  five  hundred 
a  year,  for  seven  years,  is  too  little.  You  will 
give  him  seven  hundred  and  fifty." 

"  It  is  far  beyond  his  wants,  habits,  and  ideas." 

Vellum,  in  saying  these  few  words,  was  re- 
buked by  the  grave  expression  of  his  lordship's 
eye ;  and,  stopping  as  if  he  had  been  inter- 
rupted, looked  confused. 

The  earl,  after  a  pause  of  some  ten  or  twenty 
seconds,  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  standing  with 
his  back  to  the  fire,  said  to  the  solicitor,  who  had 
also  risen  at  the  same  time,  "  I  am  not  sure,  Mr 
Vellum,  that  any  man  has  a  right  to  prescribe 
limits  to  another's  fortune.  You  will  give  Mr 
Wylie  seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year 
for  seven  years,  if  you  think  rny  business  and 
connections  can,  with  a  reasonable  advantage  to 
yourself,  afford  so  much." 

There  was  no  withstanding  either  the  manner 
or  the  matter  of  this.  Vellum  bowed  with  pro- 
found respect,  and  said,  "  It  shall  lie  done,  my 
lord  ;  and  I  ought  to  add  that  it  is  in  my  power 
to  comply  with  your  lordship's  request. " 


176  SIH  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  I  thank  you,  Vellum  :  you  have  obliged  me  ;  " 
and  the  earl  took  him  cordially  by  the  hand. 
"We  shall  talk  no  more  of  these  matters.  My  only 
instructions  to  you  now  are  :  Let  a  full  account 
be  made  out,  and  sent  to  me  as  soon  as  possible, 
exhibiting  an  exact  view  of  my  affairs  ;  with  a 
table,  showing  in  what  time  my  debts  may  be  dis- 
charged. I  will  take  it  with  me  into  the  country, 
where  I  shall  be  able  to  determine  the  amount  to 
which  I  must  limit  my  expenditure." 

This  was  evidently  intended  to  conclude  the 
interview  ;  and  accordingly  the  solicitor,  sensible  of 
the  intimation,  took  his  leave.  In  quitting  the 
room,  the  earl,  however,  said  to  him  with  his 
wonted  freedom,  "  You  can  dine  with  rne,  I 
hope  ?  " 

Vellum  accepted  the  invitation,  but  with  a 
little  more  formality  than  usual.  The  earl  smiled 
at  the  change,  and  added,  in  his  most  gracious 
and  conciliating  manner,  "  By  the  way,  Vellum, 
this  house  must  remain  empty  while  I  am  in  the 
country,  for  I  do  not  intend  that  it  shall  be  let ; 
you  had  as  well  come  here  and  live  :  you  will 
take  better  care  of  the  pictures  and  furniture 
than  servants ;  and  I  hope  you  and  Mrs  Vellum 
will  oblige  me  in  this.  You  need  not  materially 
increase  your  establishment,  as  I  shall  leave  some 
of  the  old  servants." 

Vellum  looked  on  his  lordship.  On  any  former 
occasion,  had  such  a  proposition  been  made  to 
him  he  would  have  laughingly  shaken  his  head  in 


A  MAN  OF  BUSINESS  177 

thankful  acceptation  ;  but  the  singular  lustre  with 
which  the  latent  character  of  the  earl  shone  out 
upon  him  smote  him  with  a  sense  of  revei-ence 
that  overpowered  all  his  wonted  familiarity,  and 
he  said,  with  the  most  profound  respect,  "  I  crave 
your  lordship's  pardon  for  having  evinced  any  re- 
luctance to  comply  with  your  request.  I  ought  to 
have  known  better  the  obligations  that  I  owe  to 
your  lordship,  and  the  magnanimity  of  your  dis- 
position." He  then  said,  somewhat  less  formally, 
but  perhaps  with  more  effect,  "  I  am  not  the  only 
one,  however,  my  lord,  who  has  been  long  in  error 
with  respect  to  your  lordship." 

"  Come,  come,  Vellum,  no  more  of  that,"  cried 
the  earl,  interrupting  him.  "  I  have  myself,  per- 
haps, been  the  most  in  error  of  you  all.  But  as  I 
have  turned  over  a  new  leaf  in  the  book  of  life,  it 
is  as  well  that  the  first  record  to  be  made  thereon 
is  what  I  shall  not  regret.  Bring  Wylie  with  you, 
that  I  may  see  with  what  humour  the  Caliban  sus- 
tains his  new  fortune." 

The  solicitor  bowed  and  retired. 


VOL.   I. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

Gratitude. 

Jr  ROM  the  transactions  of  the  preceding  day, 
"\Vylie  had  been  thoughtful  and  anxious.  He 
studiously  avoided  the  conversation  of  his  com- 
panions in  the  office,  and  applied  himself  with 
more  than  wonted  diligence  to  his  tasks  at  the 
desk.  He  had  formed  expectations  with  respect 
to  the  favour  of  Lord  Sandyford,  which  he 
thought  were  likely  to  be  frustrated  by  the  un- 
fortunate situation  of  the  earl's  domestic  affairs, 
and  ever  and  anon  a  cold  feeling  came  over  his 
heart,  such  as  often  saddens  the  spirit  of  the 
young  adventurer  when  his  prospects  are  suddenly 
clouded.  Vellum,  on  his  returning  from  his  lord- 
ship, summoned  him  into  his  own  apartment,  and 
somewhat  abruptly  told  him  of  his  good  fortune. 

"It's  vera  kind  of  my  lord,"  said  Andrew;  "really 
it's  vera  kind.  He's  a  nice  man,  and  mair  in  him 
than  lie's  likened  to.  I  couldna  hae  thought  he 
would  hae  done  so  meikle  for  me  already." 

"Then  you  have  expected,"  cried  Vellum,  "that 
he  would  do  something  for  you  ?  " 

"I    surely   had    reason,"    was    the   reply.      "It 

ITS 


GRATITUDE  179 

couldna  be  thought  but  that  in  time  I  might  hae 
ventured  to  ask  my  lord's  helping  hand,  consider- 
ing his  discretion  l  towards  me." 

"  The  idea  did  credit  to  your  sagacity,  Wylie/' 
said  Vellum  ironically  ;  "  and  I  suppose  you  exerted 
yourself  to  the  best  of  your  ability  to  amuse  his 
lordship  ?  " 

"  Nae  doubt  I  did — nae  doubt  I  did  that/'  cried 
our  hero  ;  "  it  would  hae  been  an  unco  2  thing  in 
the  like  o'  me  no  to  hae  done  a'  in  my  capacity  to 
pleasure  my  lord." 

"  Upon  my  word,  there  is  more  in  you  than  I 
gave  you  credit  for/'  replied  the  solicitor  sneer- 
ingly,  feeling  as  if  he  had  been  in  some  degree 
overreached  by  the  part  which  Andrew  had  played ; 
adding  more  sedately,  "  but  now  that  you  have 
gained  your  ends,  and  by  his  lordship's  generosity 
are  placed  in  a  condition  to  support  the  appear- 
ance of  a  gentleman,  I  hope  you  will  set  in 
seriously  to  your  profession,  and  throw  off  your 
ridiculous  manners  for  the  future." 

"  That  would  be  a  doing,  indeed  !  "  exclaimed 
our  hero,  "when  you  are  just  at  this  precious 
moment  telling  me  that  they  have  already  brought 
me  in  seven  hunder  and  fifty  pounds  a  year." 

This  answer  puzzled  the  lawyer,  who  laughed  c.s 
he  said,  "Well,  well,  take  your  own  way  ;  but  it  is 
no  longer  necessary  for  you  to  be  so  penurious." 

"That's  vera  true,"  replied  Andrew,  "and  I'm 
thankful  it  is  sae  ;  but  if  I  dinna  save  now,  where 

1  Discretion.     Civility.  2  f.'/ico.     Wonderful. 


180  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

will  I,  in  the  lang-run,  be  a  whit  the  better 
for  my  lord's  bountiful  patronage  ?  No,  sir ;  ye 
maun,  just  let  me  ride  my  ain  horse  \vi'  my  aiu 
ha' cling.1" 

Mr  Vellum  suddenly  broke  off  the  conversa- 
tion, and  turned  his  attention,  to  some  matter  of 
business.  Our  hero,  on  going  to  his  place  at  the 
desk,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart  wrote  a  letter  to 
his  grandmother ;  but,  without  indulging  in  any 
expression  beyond  the  wonted  temperance  of  his 
ordinary  manner  of  addressing  the  affectionate  old 
woman,  he  began  by  stating  that  for  some  time  he 
had  been  keepit  thraiig  2  both  by  night  and  by  day. 
"  But  I  have  no  reason  to  complain,  for  Providence 
has  been  pleased  to  raise  up  for  me  a  friend,  by 
whose  instrumentality  Mr  Vellum  has  settled  on 
me  a  very  satisfactory  wage,  the  which  will  en- 
able me  to  show  more  kindness  to  you  than  I 
have  yet  had  it  in  my  power  to  do ;  and  I  think 
it  my  loving  duty  to  send  you  herein,  out  of  the 
fore-end  of  my  earnings,  something  to  buy  a  new 
gown,  or  any  other  small  convenience  that  ye  may 
stand  in  the  need  of,  hoping  you  will  want  for 
nothing,  as  I  doubt  not  to  have  it  in  my  power  now 
to  do  as  mickle,  and  more,  from  time  to  time." 
And  then  he  continued,  "  I  have  seen  of  late  but 
little  of  Charlie  Pierston.  He's  in  very  good 
health  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  ;  but  a  mis- 
chievous clever  ramplor,3  and  never  devalds  '  with 

1  Hd'tlinrt.     Trappings.  '-'  Timtii'i.     Pushed  \vit!i  work. 

3  JhiHiji/tir.     (!uy  fellow.  4  Devalds.      L'c;iso.s. 


GRATITUDE  1 8 1 

cracking  his  jokes  on  me.  However,  I  have  fallen 
in,  notwithstanding  the  unfashion  of  my  apparel, 
with  some  creditable  acquaintance ;  but,  as  you 
ken  nothing  anent  them,  I  needna  fash  you  with 
their  names,  nor  how  it  was."  And  he  concluded 
by  assuring  the  old  woman  that  it  would  be  his 
honest  endeavour  to  give  satisfaction  to  his  friends, 
whoever  they  were,  and  to  none  more  than  to  her, 
to  whose  care  he  w^is  beholden  for  everything  but 
his  being. 

This  letter  afforded  great  delight  to  the  old 
woman  :  she  carried  it  round  to  all  her  neighbours, 
and  even  to  the  manse,  where  the  minister  de- 
clared his  entire  satisfaction  with  the  affection- 
ate disposition  and  the  generous  heart  of  poor 
Andrew. 

"  But/'  said  he,  "  London  is  a  very  expensive 
place,  so  you  must  not  count  too  confidently  on 
his  being  able  to  fulfil  his  kind  intentions.  We 
might,  however,  have  been  better  qualified  to 
judge  of  that  had  he  told  you  the  amount  of  his 
salary  ;  however,  upon  the  whole,  you  have  great 
reason  to  be  thankful.  I  believe  he  was  always 
a  well-disposed  creature." 

"  That  he  was,"  replied  Martha  in  the  pride  of 
her  heart :  "he's  a  wee  gair,1  I  alloo;  but  the  liberal 
man's  the  beggar's  brother,  and  there's  aye  some- 
thing to  get  by  key  or  claut 2  frae  the  miser's 
coffer.  I  dinna  stMid  in  the  lack  o'  his  gift ;  but 
since  it  has  come,  i  will  buy  a  new  gown  for  the 
Gair.  Parsimonious;  "near."  2  Claut.  Sc 


182  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

kirk,  that  the  whole  parish  may  see  Andrew's 
gudeness  o'  heart  therein.  Poor  fallow !  Nae 
doubt  he  has  had  to  baith  thole  and  moil l  for  what 
he  has  gotten,  and  it's  a  warld's  wonder  to  me 
how  he  could  gie  sic  a  satisfaction.  But  naebody 
can  tell  what's  in  the  shawp  till  it's  shelt 2 :  Paul 
was  lang  a  persecutor  before  he  was  an  apostle, 
and  the  bonny  butterflies  begin  the  warld  in  the 
shape  o'  crawling  kail  worms." 

Thus  was  the  character  of  our  hero  for  affection 
and  generosity  established  amidst  the  scenes  of  his 
youth.  And  when,  from  time  to  time,  in  faithful 
adherence  to  his  promise,  a  five-pound  note  came 
regularly  to  hand,  the  worthy  Tannyhill  as  regu- 
larly lauded  the  liberality  of  the  donor,  and  pre- 
dicted his  future  greatness,  while  the  delighted 
old  woman,  exulting  in  the  constancy  of  his  kind- 
ness, as  often  declared  "  that  she  never  wished 
to  see  him  great,  but  only  gude  ;  for,  as  Solomon 
says,  '  grant  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches  ; '  and 
Solomon  kent  weel  what  the  warld  is — though, 
poor  man,  in  his  auld  days  he  gaed  aften  far  ajee 
out  o'  the  straight  road  in  the  gloaming,  tapping 
wi'  his  gowden-headed  staff  at  the  harlot's  door, 
and  keeking  in  at  her  windows  with  his  bald  head 
and  his  grey  haffits,3  when  he  should  liae  been 
sitting  at  hame  on  his  throne,  reading  his  Bible  to 
his  captains  and  counsellors  in  a  kingly  manner." 

1  Thole  (t.:<d  nviif.     Suffer  and  sv.-ont. 

2  Shan't)  •   •   •   shdt.     Pod  .   .   .  .shelled. 

3  Haffts.     Temples. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

An  Ale-house. 

.AGREEABLY  to  the  orders  of  the  countess,  her 
father's  travelling-carriage  was  at  the  door  early 
in  the  morning.  The  day  promised  to  be  fine. 
The  winter  had  been  mild  ;  and  although  it  was 
still  February,  the  spring  was  seen  big  in  the 
bud,  and  the  fields  seemed  to  be  tinged  with  new 
verdure.  A  few  lambs  were  scattered  here  and 
there  among  the  flocks  on  the  pastures  ;  and  the 
air  breathed  an  invigorating  energy  into  the  spirit, 
of  which  Lady  Sandyford  stood  then  much  in  need. 
Everything  presented  the  appearance  of  youth 
and  renovation ;  and  the  rising  hopes  of  a  richer 
harvest  of  pleasures  in  life  were  in  accordance 
with  the  appearance  of  nature,  and  the  genial 
blandishments  of  the  early  year. 

During  the  first  three  stages  of  her  journey  to- 
wards Elderbower,  she  met  with  nothing  to  draw 
her  attention  from  the  contemplation  of  her  own 
situation.  Indignant  at  the  world,  and  mortified 
with  herself,  her  thoughts  alternately  glowed  Avith 
anger  and  were  darkened  with  sadness ;  but  a 

general  tendency  to  a   more  elevated  course  of  re- 
it  a 


184  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

flection  gradually  acquired  force,  and  her  spirit  rose, 
as  it  were,  out  of  its  passions  and  prejudices,  like 
the  moon  ascending  from  behind  the  lurid  glare, 
the  smoke,  and  the  dark  masses  of  a  great  city. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  to  change  horses 
at  the  Rose  and  Crown,  in  the  village  of  Castle 
Rooksburgh,  her  ladyship  was  roused  from  her 
reverie  by  the  murmuring  of  a  crowd  round  the 
door  of  a  small  public-house  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  way.  There  was  something  in  the  appear- 
ance of  the  people  which  showed  that  their  feelings 
and  sympathies  were  excited  by  some  distressing 
occurrence,  and  she  inquired  what  had  happened. 
Several  voices,  all  anxious  to  engage  her  humanity, 
answered  together  that  a  poor  unknown  out- 
landish woman  had  been  taken  in  labour  in  the 
London  coach,  and,  being  left  there,  had  expired 
in  giving  birth  to  a  beautiful  female  infant. 

It  was  not  the  intention  of  the  countess  to  have 
halted  till  she  had  reached  the  end  of  her  journey  ; 
but  this  incident  had  such  a  powerful  effect  on  her 
newly-awakened  sensibilities  that  she  immediately 
determined  to  alight,  and  to  make  some  arrange- 
ment for  the  preservation  of  the  helpless  chil.l. 
The  crowd  were  touched  with  admiration  at  her 
generous  compassion,  and  made  way  for  her  to 
the  door  of  the  public-house,  with  a  degree  of 
reverence,  mingled  with  delight,  that  came  over 
her  heart  with  an  influence  more  delicious  than 
the  early  odours  of  the  spring. 

I5ut  no  previous   view  of  the  privations  of  the 


AN  ALE-HOUSE  1S5 

poor  h;ul  prepared  her  for  the  scene  that  she 
beheld  on  entering  the  house.  She  was  shown 
first  into  the  kitchen, — or,  rather,  the  door  opened 
into  that  apartment.  It  was  a  rude  low-ceiled 
room,  with  a  large  chimney  at  the  one  side,  in 
which  a  hospitable  pile  of  roots  and  billets  of 
wood  were  cheerily  burning.  In  the  one  corner 
hung  several  hams  and  flitches  of  bacon ;  in  the 
other  stood  a  bench,  somewhat  dislocated  in 
its  limbs,  with  a  high  back,  which  bore  a  sort 
of  outline  resemblance  to  an  old-fashioned  sofa. 
Opposite  to  the  fire  was  an  enclosed  recess,  with 
an  oaken  table  in  the  middle,  carved  with  the 
initials  of  some  favoured  customers ;  and  round  it 
about  six  or  seven  labourers  were  seated, — some 
with  bread  and  cheese  before  them,  others  with 
tankards  of  ale, — and  two  or  three  of  them  were 
smoking.  They  rose  as  her  ladyship  passed 
across  to  a  room  where  a  number  of  women  and 
children  were  assembled ;  on  entering  which, 
her  ear  was  pierced,  and  her  heart  penetrated, 
by  the  shrill  and  feeble  Avail  of  the  new-born 
orphan. 

She  advanced  towards  the  side  of  an  humble 
bed,  on  which  lay  the  body  of  the  mother,  still 
retaining  that  last  and  indescribable  gleam  of 
earthly  beauty  which  remains  for  a  few  minutes 
after  the  spirit  has  departed,  and  seems  as  if  it 
were  the  reflection  of  the  ethereal  guest  hovering 
in  contemplation  over  the  dwelling  it  has  for 
ever  quitted.  An  elderly  woman  was  respectfully 


186  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

composing  the  limbs,  while  another  was  dressing 
the  child  as  it  lay  on  her  lap. 

Lady  Sandyford  was  exceedingly  moved  by  a 
spectacle  as  new  as  it  was  mournful,  and,  obeying 
the  shock  and  impulse  of  the  moment,  she  hastily 
turned  back,  and  ran  across  the  street  to  the 
Rose  and  Crown. 

"  For  heaven's  sake  ! "  she  exclaimed  to  the 
landlady,  who  followed  her  into  one  of  the  par- 
lours. "What  is  to  be  done  with  that  unprotected 
infant  ?  " 

"  Don't  afflict  yourself,  my  lady,"  replied  Mrs 
Vintage  ;  "  the  parish-officers  will  see  to  it.  They 
have  already  sent  for  Mrs  Peony,  the  wife  of  Mr 
Ferrers'  gardener.  Her  own  child  died  yester- 
day, and  she  will  be  right  glad  to  get  this  one 
in  its  place.  I  would,  therefore,  my  lady,  recom- 
mend your  ladyship  to  take  some  refreshment,  and 
compose  your  spirits.  What  will  your  ladyship 
be  pleased  to  take  ?  " 

Flounce,  her  ladyship's  gentlewoman  and  com- 
panion in  the  carriage,  who  had  been  during  the 
whole  time  an  amazed  spectator  of  the  countess's 
agitation,  interfered,  saying,  "  Perhaps  my  lady 
will  be  better  by  being  left  for  a  little  alone;" 
and  the  countess  intimating,  by  a  motion  of  her 
hand,  an  acquiescence  in  this  suggestion,  Mrs 
Vintage  withdrew. 

"  Flounce,"  said  her  ladyship,  the  moment  they 
were  by  themselves,  "  I  have  a  great  mind  to  take 
this  babv  with  us." 


AN  ALE-HOUSE  187 

"Oil,  monstrous,  your  ladyship!"  exclaimed 
the  tender-hearted  Abigail.  "  Why,  the  creature 
hasn't  a  stitch  of  clothes ;  and  how  could  we 
nurse  it  in  the  carriage  on  my  best  pelisse  ?  No, 
my  lady  :  let  the  parish-officers  first  get  it  nursed  ; 
and  then,  if  it  chance  to  be  a  beauty,  your  lady- 
ship may  show  your  compassion.  But,  Lord,  if  it 
prove  an  ugly  brawling  toad,  what  could  be  done 
with  it?" 

"There  is  some  reason  in  what  you  say, 
Flounce,"  replied  the  countess,  "  particularly  as 
to  the  risk  your  best  pelisse  might  be  exposed  to. 
Nevertheless,  I  will  adopt  the  child  ;  therefore, 
do  you  call  in  the  landlady  again,  that  I  may 
speak  to  her  on  the  subject." 

Mrs  Vintage,  on  returning  into  the  room,  was 
accordingly  informed  that  the  parish-officers  need 
give  themselves  no  further  trouble  about  the 
orphan,  for  it  was  her  ladyship's  intention  to  take 
it  under  her  protection. 

"  But,"  said  the  countess,  "  I  do  not  wish  for 
the  present  to  be  known  in  the  business.  I 
must  beg  of  you,  therefore,  to  make  the  neces- 
sary arrangements  with  the  nurse  of  whom  you 
spoke,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  you  will 
hear  from  me  more  particularly  on  the  subject. 
In  the  meantime,  1  will  leave  with  you  what 
money  may  be  necessary  to  defray  the  expenses 
of  the  mother's  funeral.  In  order,  however, 
that  some  key  may  be  got  to  her  relations,  if 
possible,  I  think  it  will  be  proper  to  take  posses- 


188  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

sion  of  any  luggage  that  she  may  have  had 
with  her." 

Mrs  Vintage  told  her  ladyship  that  she  under- 
stood there  was  nothing  but  a  box,  which  the 
officers  had  opened  already,  and  found  to  contain 
a  few  trinkets  and  clothes  only.  "  I  have  taken 
charge  of  it,  and,  if  your  ladyship  pleases,  I  will 
give  it  up  to  you." 

"Yes,"  said  Flounce,  "I  think  that  if  my  lady 
is  to  be  at  the  expense  of  the  brat's  education,  she 
should  have  what  effects  belong  to  it :  so,  pray, 
do  let  us  have  the  box  with  us.  I  dare  say,  my 
lady,  some  of  the  trinkets  must  be  valuable  :  for 
did  not  your  ladyship  observe  Avhat  delightful  large 
ear-rings  the  poor  dead  creature  had  ?  Surely 
they  will  never  be  so  barbarous  as  to  bury  her 
witli  them.  If  they  do,  I  should  not  be  surprised 
were  the  sexton  to  dig  her  up  in  the  night,  and 
pull  them  out." 

"  Flounce,"  cried  her  mistress  with  displeasure, 
"you  allow  yourself  to  talk  too  flippantly.  Desire 
the  footman  to  see  the  box  carefully  put  up  with 
the  rest  of  our  luggage." 

Her  ladyship  then  gave  Mrs  Vintage  some  in- 
structions respecting  a  slight  repast ;  and,  while 
the  preparations  for  that  were  going  on,  the  re- 
quisite arrangements  were  made  with  Mrs  Peony 
to  take  charge  of  the  child,  which  the  countess 
directed  to  be  named  Monimia. 

During  the  conversation,  it  transpired  that  the 
Mr  Ferrers  in  whose  service  the  husband  of  the 


AN  ALE-HOUSE  189 

nurse  wns  gardener  was  the  same  gentleman 
whose  attentions  to  the  countess  had  already  pro- 
duced such  baneful  consequences.  He  was  lord  of 
the  manor  in  which  the  village  was  situated,  and 
possessed  a  fine  ancient  seat  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood. 

There  was  nothing  in  this  information  which 
disturbed  Lady  Sandyford,  for  she  was  not  aware 
that  it  was  owing  to  the  ridiculous  assiduity  of 
Ferrers  that  her  unhappy  situation  with  her  hus- 
band had  been  brought  to  such  a  painful  issue. 
Nevertheless,  the  remainder  of  her  journey  to 
Elderbower  (the  seat  of  the  countess-dowager) 
was  performed  in  silence ;  even  Flounce  said 
nothing,  and  made  no  attempt  to  engage  the 
attention  of  her  ladv,  but,  ruminating  on  the 
events  of  the  day,  fell  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

A  Dowager. 

JLliLDERBOWER  for  generations  had  been  the 
appropriated  retreat  of  the  dowagers  of  Sandy- 
ford.  It  was  a  venerable  whitewashed  mansion, 
presenting  a  front  of  three  gables,  topped  with 
stately  ornamented  chimneys,  toward  a  smooth, 
well-shaven  green,  enclosed  on  the  right  and  left 
by  high  walls,  clothed  with  laurels  and  other 
shrubs  of  constant  leaf  and  verdure.  This  lawn 
(or  pai-terre,  as  it  was  called)  opened  to  the  public 
road  by  a  pair  of  iron  gates  of  florid  tracery,  be- 
tween two  tall  embossed  and  sculptured  columns, 
on  the  tops  of  which  stood  a  couple  of  grotesque 
statues,  intended  to  represent  Saxon  warriors,  the 
supporters  of  the  Sandyford  arms.  These,  in  a 
boyish  freak,  while  residing  here  under  the  mater- 
nal wing,  the  earl  one  day  painted  in  the  colours 
of  the  family  livery  (to  place  them  on  a  footing, 
as  he  said,  with  their  equally  Avise  fellows  in  the 
hall)  ;  and  his  mother,  from  an  indescribable  sen- 
timent of  affection,  yearly  renewed  their  liveries, 
contrasting  with  sorrow  the  light  and  jocund 
gaiety  of  the  time  when  the  frolic  was  first 


A  DOWAGER  191 

played  with  the  headlong  dissipation  that  had 
succeeded. 

This  widow's  nest,  as  the  earl  was  in.  the 
practice  of  designating  Elderbower,  stood  on  the 
skirts  of  Elderton,  a  cheerful  market  town,  near  the 
rectory,  and  not  far  from  the  church  :  so  situated, 
as  his  lordship  said,  in  order  that  the  dowagers 
might  have  the  benefit  of  clergy  in  their  felonies 
on  the  adjacent  characters.  But  the  insinuation 
did  not  apply  to  his  mother,  who  was  in  many 
respects  an  amiable  woman,  though  weakly  over- 
valuing her  rank. 

When  the  bell  at  the  gate  announced  the 
arrival  of  her  daughter-in-law,  she  was  sitting 
alone  at  a  parlour  window  Avhich  overlooked  a 
flower-garden  that  sloped  gently  down  towards  a 
beautiful  smooth  grass  plot  round  a  basin,  in  the 
middle  of  which  stood  a  naked  leaden  male  image, 
intended  for  a  heathen  god  (but  whether  Apollo 
or  Vulcan  was  never  thoroughly  or  satisfactorily 
determined).  His  reverence  the  rector,  who 
once  had  acquired  some  knowledge  of  such  things 
at  Oxford,  was  of  opinion  that  the  statue  was  an 
original  cast  of  the  Farnesian  Hercules  ;  but  the 
traditions  among  the  domestics  and  of  the  en- 
virons described  it  as  the  effigy  of  Sir  Gondibert 
Ic  Saint  et  Forte,  who,  on  account  of  his  great 
valour,  obtained  the  redoubtable  surname  of  Hard- 
knocks, — a  most  valorous  and  courteous  knight 
that  was  taken  by  the  Pagans  and  flayed  alive  at 
Jerusalem,  in  the  time  of  the  Crusades. 


192  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

But  however  questionable  the  character  might 
be  which  the  image  exhibited,  or  whatever  con- 
troversies  existed   with   respect   to   its    origin,   it 
certainly  poured  from  a  conch  a  copious  stream  of 
crystalline  water,  which  fell  in  a  gentle  and  ever- 
rippling  shower  on  the  surface  of  the  basin,  and 
spread  into  the  quiet  air  around  a  sober  murmur 
that  softly  harmonised  with  the  tranquillity  of  the 
scenery,  and  with  the  golden  composure  of  the 
setting  sun  which  the  old  lady  was  then  contem- 
plating, with  her  elbow  resting  on  a  large  prayer- 
book,  in  which  her  spectacles  marked  that  recently 
she  had  been  reading  the  collects  prescribed  for 
the  evening.      Shock,  her  lapdog,  lay  slumbering 
on  the  rug,  with  his  head  comfortably  pillowed 
011  the  breast  of  Pur,  a  large,  demure,  and  decorous 
tortoiseshell   cat,  that  also  was   enjoying  at   full 
length  the  drowsy  influences  of  the  bright  blue- 
tinged    fire,    which,    like    the    splendour    of   the 
western    skies,    gave    an    assurance   of  continued 
clear  and  dry  weather.      Shock  was  disturbed  in 
his  siesta  by  the  sound  of  the  bell,  and,  starting 
up,    ran    barking    towards    the    door ;    while    his 
lady,  taking  her    spectacles    out   of  the  prayer- 
book,  placed  it  on  a  table  behind  her,  on  which, 
amidst  several  volumes  of  a  devotional  character, 
lay  a  copy  of  the  newspaper  containing  the  para- 
graph that  completed   the  rupture  between  her 
son  and  his   wife.      It    may  easily  be    imagined, 
therefore,    with    what    emotion    she    beheld    the 
countess,    unannounced,    enter    the    room ;    and, 


A  DOWAGER  193 

almost  in  the  same  moment,  felt  her  in  tears  on 
her  bosom. 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  venerable  matron,  "  what  is 
this  ?  And  why  have  you  come  to  me  ?  But  I 
pity  you  more  than  I  can  express ;  for  I  fear 
that  the  conduct  of  George  afforded  too  just  a 
palliation." 

"  Then  you  have  already  heard  what  has  hap- 
pened ?  "  cried  the  countess,  in  some  degree  re- 
covering herself.  "  Whatever  may  have  been  my 
indiscretions,  I  am  at  least,  my  dear  mother,  free 
from  the  imputed  guilt.  Lord  Sandyford  and  I 
have  long  lived  a  comfortless  life.  He  has  treated 
me  as  if  I  were  unworthy  of  his  affection,  and, 
perhaps,  I  have  acted  as  if  I  felt  none  for  him. 
This  public  scandal  has  opened  my  eyes  to  my 
faults  ;  and  I  have  come  to  you  to  learn  how  I 
may  recover  the  esteem  of  my  husband.  My 
father"  urges  me  to  a  formal  sepai'ation.  He  did 
persuade  me  indeed  to  remove  with  him  from 
Sandyford  House.  It  was  a  rash  step,  but  it  is 
taken.  Instruct  me  how  it  may  be  redeemed." 

The  dowager  dropped  a  tear  on  the  hand  which 
Lady  Sandyford  had,  in  her  earnestness,  laid  upon 
her  knee,  and  said,  "  I  thank  you,  Augusta,  for 
this  confidence  ;  but  I  feel  a  mother's  sorrow  for 
George.  His  ruin,  I  fear,  is  now  complete.  But 
endeavour  to  compose  yourself,  and  we  shall  con- 
sider, at  leisure,  what  is  the  best  course  to  pursue. 
You  have  done  wisely  to  come  to  me.  The  know- 
ledge that  you  have  taken  refuge  here  will  do 

VOL.    I.  N 


194  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

much  to  remove  that  unfavourable  construction 
towards  you  which  the  world,  taught  by  the 
fatal  newspaper  tale,  will  doubtless  put  on  the 
separation." 

The  maternal  anxieties  of  the  old  lady  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  the  earl  had  acted  in  the  business 
received  some  alleviation  from  the  countess's  re- 
port of  Sir  Charles  Runnington's  mission,  and  she 
said,  "Thank  Heaven,  his  heart  is  not  entirely 
corrupted,  nor  his  principles  destroyed  !  I  hope  he 
has  still  good  feeling  enough,  were  it  once  effectu- 
ally excited,  to  work  out  a  gracious  change  in  his 
conduct.  If  he  could  once  be  convinced  that 
you  are  solicitous  to  regain  his  affections,  his  ruin 
may  be  arrested  ;  for,  whatever  his  behaviour  may 
have  been  since,  once,  Augusta,  he  undoubtedly 
loved  you  truly." 

The  benign  composure  of  the  dowager  had  an 
immediate  and  tranquillising  effect  on  the  mind 
of  the  countess,  who,  in  the  course  of  less  than  an 
hour  after  her  arrival,  was  able  to  discuss  with 
her  the  plan  that  she  had  formed  in  the  hope  of 
regaining  the  esteem  of  her  lord.  The  dowager 
would  have  written  the  same  night  to  request 
the  presence  of  the  earl,  that  their  reconciliation 
might  be  immediate  ;  but  the  countess  would  not 
permit.  "  No,"  said  she,  "  I  do  not  wish  that  we 
should  come  together  again,  unless  there  can  be 
a  reciprocity  in  our  tastes  and  sentiments.  I  feel 
my  own  insufficiency  at  present  to  contribute  to 
his  happiness." 


A  DOWAGER  l9-> 

The  old  lady  affectionately  interrupted  her, 
saying,  "  You  have  too  humble  an  opinion  of 
yourself." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  her  ladyship,  "humility  is  to 
me  a  new  feeling.  I  cannot  disguise  to  myself 
that,  with  all  my  former  vain  pretensions  to 
superiority,  I  have  failed  to  preserve  the  love  of 
a  man  that  once  doted  upon  me.  Perhaps  I  have 
even  been  instrumental  to  that  woeful  lapse  which 
has  so  long  embittered  your  declining  years." 

The  tone  of  contrition  in  which  this  was  ex- 
pressed surprised  and  grieved  the  venerable 
dowager.  She  beheld  the  character  of  Lady 
Sandyford  in  a  point  of  view  of  which  she  had 
formed  no  previous  conception  ;  and  there  was  a 
modesty  in  this,  which,  while  it  moved  her  com- 
passion, solicited  encouragement.  She  saw  that 
the  countess  felt  more  deeply  the  stigma  to  which 
she  had  been  exposed  than  could  have  been 
expected  from  a  woman  hitherto  considered  as 
equally  under  the  dominion  of  pride  and  vanity. 

By  this  time  it  was  almost  quite  dark  ;  and 
such  had  been  the  earnestness  of  the  conversation 
between  the  two  ladies  that  the  one  forgot  the 
fatigue  of  her  journey,  and  the  other  to  ask  if 
she  required  any  refreshment.  Far  different  w;is 
the  case  with  Flounce  :  she  was  prattling  away 
with  delight  over  a  dish  of  green  tea,  along  with 
the  methodical  Mrs  Polisher,  who  held  the  re- 
sponsible dignity  of  housekeeper  at  Klderbower ; 
repaying  the  civility  of  her  entertainer  with  a  full, 


196  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

true,  and  particular  account  of  the  infidelities  of 
the  earl.  "  I  declare,  my  dear  ma'am/'  said 
Flounce,  "  he  is  the  most  shockingest  man  you 
ever  heard  of;  and  more  times  than  I  shall  tell 
he  has  shown  his  cloven  foot  to  me.  '  But,  my 
lord,'  savs  I,  '  I  would  have  your  lordship  to  know 
that  if  my  lady  submits  to  your  raking,  I  won't.' 
Really,  Mrs  Polisher,  you  make  excellent  tea  ;  but 
I  suppose  the  water  is  very  good  in  this  here 
countrified  place — and  then  his  lordship  would 
laugh  and  make  game  of  me — pray,  do  give  me  a 
morsel  of  sugar — dear  me,  what  charming  cream  ! 
— a  little  more — I  protest  it's  beautiful — I  never 
tasted  such  delicious  cream — and  this  is  such  a 
pretty  house — I  guess,  however,  you  must  be 
dullish,  keeping  no  company;  and  I  should  think 
my  lady  will  not  stay  long.  I  fancy  when  the 
divorce  is  finished  we  shall  have  one  of  the  earl's 
other  seats  to  live  in." 

"  Divorce  !  "  cried  Mrs  Polisher  in  amazement ; 
for  she  had  not  yet  heard,  notwithstanding 
all  Flounce's  talk,  anything  of  the  separation. 
"  Divorce  !  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Why,  haven't  you  heard  that  my  lady  has 
been  caught  in  a  denoomang  ?  " 

Mrs  Polisher,  an  old  respectable  matron, 
started  back  from  the  tea  -  table,  exclaiming, 
"  Not  possible  !  " 

"  As  to  the  possibility  of  the  thing,  that's 
neither  here  nor  there,"  said  Flounce,  sipping 
her  third  cup  ;  "  but  the  story's  all  blown  abroad, 


A  DOWAGEE  197 

and  our  men  read  it  in  the  newspapers.  Being  a 
delicate  affair,  you  know  I  could  not  speak  of  it  to 
my  lady  herself;  but  it's  in  the  newspapers;  so 
there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact.  Indeed,  my 
Lord  Avonside  came  and  took  her  away  out  of 
the  house,  and  I  was  ordered  to  follow  in  the 
evening.  Then  there  Avas  such  a  piece  of  work — 
really,  Mrs  Polisher,  this  is  prodigious  fine  hysson 
— a  small  knob  o'f  sugar,  if  you  please.  But,  you 
know,  it  does  not  do  for  us  servants  to  make 
or  meddle  in  these  sort  of  matters — so  I  said 
nothing,  because  my  place  is  a  very  good  one.  I 
wonder,  however,  what  your  dowager  thinks  of 
the  business." 

"Thinks!"  cried  Mrs  Polisher,  indignantly.  "It 
will  break  her  heart.  And  I  am  astonished  that 
your  Lady  Sandyford  should  dare  to  show  her 
face  in  this  house ;  but  these  sort  of  creatures  are 
as  impudent  as  they  are  wicked." 

At  this  moment  the  dowager  rang  the  bell 
that  summoned  Mrs  Polisher,  and  Flounce  was 
left,  for  a  short  time,  to  her  own  meditations ;  or, 
rather,  to  her  observations  :  for,  the  moment  that 
the  housekeeper's  back  was  turned,  she  immedi- 
ately began  to  inspect  everything  in  the  room, 
with  the  avidity  of  an  intended  purchaser.  But 
before  she  had  completed  her  survey,  an  old  cor- 
pulent footman,  who  was  lame  with  the  gout, 
came  in  to  inquire  for  his  young  lord,  as  he  called 
the  earl. 

"Don't    talk    of    his    lordship    to    me,"    cried 


198  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Flounce ;  "  he's  a  naughty  man,  and  'tis  all  his 
fault." 

"  I  won't  believe  a  word  on't,"  said  the  man, 
who  had  heard  something  of  the  separation  from 
the  servants  of  Lord  Avonside  that  came  with 
the  countess ;  adding,  "  Before  he  fell  in  with 
your  damned  lady " 

"  My  damned — oh,  monstrous  !  But  the  fellow's 
a  bumpkin,"  said  Flounce,  with  a  most  ineffable 
toss  of  her  head ;  and  she  then  added,  "  Sirrah, 
if  you  know  what  it  is  to  have  good  manners, 
you  will  bring  in  a  light,  and  take  none  of  these 
liberties  with  me  : "  thus  asserting  and  upholding 
her  metropolitan  superiority. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

An  Attempt. 

MORDAUNT,  soon  after  Vellum's  eventful  in- 
terview with  the  carl,  called  at  Sandyford  House, 
to  represent  in  the  strongest  terms  to  his  lordship 
the  misery  that  he  was  evidently  bringing  upon 
himself.  But  he  found  him  inexorable. 

"  Had  Lady  Sandyford  not  quitted  the  house," 
said  his  lordship,  "thereby  leaving  me  under  an 
impression  of  her  guilt,  or  (what  I  regard  almost 
equally  bad)  in  total  carelessness  whether  I  con- 
sidered her  guilty  or  innocent,  I  might  perhaps 
have  been  induced  to  reconsider  her  situation  ;  but 
I  cannot  now.  Her  conduct  confirms  me  in  the 
justice  of  the  opinion.  I  have  been  unfortunately 
taught  to  form  by  her  behaviour,  ever  since  our 
ill-fated  marriage.  She  is  incapable  of  caring  for 
any  one,  and  the  only  pain  she  will  feel  for  what 
has  happened  is  the  damage  that  has  perhaps 
been  done  to  her  own  reputation." 

Owing  to  a  long  debate  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons the  preceding  evening,  the  newspapers  were 
late  in  being  issued  that  morning,  and  the  earl, 
engaged  witli  Vellum,  had  neglected  to  look  at 


200  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

them.  At  this  crisis  of  the  conversation,  however, 
his  lordship,  in  folding  up  a  note,  happened  to 
throw  his  eye  on  the  paragraph  ingeniously  in- 
serted by  Nettle  to  turn  the  attention  of  the 
scandalmongers.  It  stated  the  extreme  regret 
of  the  editors  and  proprietors  that,  by  one  of 
those  inadvertencies  inseparable  from  the  haste 
with  which  a  daily  newspaper  was  necessarily 
compiled,  a  paragraph  relative  to  the  elopement 

of  Mrs  C with   the  gallant  Colonel   D— 

had  been  so  placed  in  connection  with  an  account 
of  the  Countess  of  Sandyford's  assembly  as  to 
induce  some  of  their  readers  to  think  it  applied 
to  that  amiable  and  noble  lady  :  "  a  mistake  which 
they  could  not  sufficiently  lament,  even  although 
assured  that  it  had  only  occasioned  a  great  deal 
of  merriment  to  the  earl  and  countess,  who  were 
everything  enviable  and  exemplary  in  married 
life." 

His  lordship  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  ex- 
claiming, "  There  are  really  no  such  fictions  as 
those  of  your  contemporary  histories  ; "  and  he 
handed  the  paper  to  Mordaunt. 

"What  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  cried  the 
honest  country  gentleman.  "  Is  it  satire  ?  " 

"Oh  dear,  no  !  "  replied  the  earl  :  "the  editors 
and  proprietors  suspect  they  have  got  into  some 
scrape,  and  are  taking  this  method  to  appease 
the  offended  enviable  exemplars,  meaning  Lady 
Sandyford  and  myself,  of  whom,  it  would  ap- 
pear, they  know  about  as  much  as  they  do  of 


AN  ATTEMPT"  201 

the  political  intrigues  and  transactions  which  they 
illuminate  and  chronicle  with  so  much  seeming 
sagacity." 

"  Monstrous  ! "  cried  Mordauiit.  "  I  had  no 
such  conception  of  the  licentiousness  of  the 
press." 

"The  only  thing  I  am  surprised  at/'  said  the 
earl,  "  is  that  the  amend  should  have  been  made 
so  expeditiously.", 

"But  who  is  this  Mrs  C andColonelD ?" 

cried  Mordaunt. 

"  Who  !"  exclaimed  the  earl;  "  I  declare  you 
cooing  lambkins  and  capering  doves  of  the  azure 
fields  are  such  innocents  that  there  is  no  speak- 
ing to  you  about  any  townish  matter  without 
entering  into  details  obnoxious  to  all  inventive 

genius.  Who,  in  this  case,  can  Mrs  C be 

but  the  celebrated  Miss  Fibby  Fiction,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  my  Lady  Fancy,  a  personage  of  great 
repute  and  influence  in  the  scandalous  world  ? 
As  for  the  gallant  colonel,  depend  upon't,  he  is 
no  other  than  that  fine,  bold,  swaggering  blade, 
who,  it  is  well  known,  has  been  long  the  declared 
adversary  and  rival  of  your  country  neighbour, 
Mr  Simple  Truth." 

"And  yet  by  this,  which  you  think  an  inven- 
tion, has  your  domestic  happiness,  my  lord,  been 
sacrificed  ?  " 

"  Softly,  Mordaunt/'  said  the  earl,  "not  so  fast 
— my  domestic  happiness  has  not  been  so  mal- 
treated by  the  Flamens — these  priests  of  Mar; 


202  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

and  Bellona,  as  I  consider  the  newspapers — the 
heart  and  bowels  were  consumed  on  the  altar 
of  the  Eumenides  long  ago.  But  I  cannot  divine 
who  has  taken  the  trouble  to  interfere  so  expe- 
ditiously." 

Mordaunt  then  told  his  lordship  of  the  con- 
versation which  he  had  held  with  Andrew,  de- 
scribing the  singular  appearance  and  cunning 
simplicity  of  our  hero. 

The  earl  was  struck  with  the  information,  and 
exclaimed,  "  It  is  impossible  that  Wylie  could 
have  contrived  anything  half  so  ingenious  as  this 
paragraph.  But  I  will  sound  the  bottom  of  it 
immediately." 

In  the  same  moment  his  lordship  rang  the  bell. 
Wylie  happened  to  be  then  at  the  door,  coming 
to  thank  him  for  his  kindness  ;  and  the  servant 
who  answered  the  bell  announced  him. 

Andrew,  from  the  moment  that  Vellum  had 
communicated  to  him  the  generous  interference 
of  the  earl,  had  undergone  an  intellectual  trans- 
mutation. An  irresistible  sentiment  of  gratitude 
arose  in  his  heart,  so  strong  and  powerful  that 
it  became  as  it  were  a  principle  of  duty ;  and, 
actuated  by  this  hallowed  and  gracious  feeling, 
without  reflecting  on  the  impropriety  of  obtrud- 
ing on  his  lordship,  at  a  time  when  a  more  worldly 
head  would  have  concluded  that  the  earl  Avas  not 
likely  to  be  in  a  humour  to  receive  him,  he  went 
to  Sandyford  House. 

On  entering  the  library,  he   was  struck    with 


AN  ATTEMPT  203 

the  change  in  his  lordship's  mien  and  air.  In- 
stead of  the  quiet  smile  of  intellectual  indolence 
which  his  lordship  usually  wore,  his  countenance 
was  lighted  up  ;  and  there  was  a  quickness  in  his 
eye,  and  a  precision  in  his  manner,  that  discon- 
certed the  self-possession  of  our  hero. 

"  How  is  this,  Wylie  !  Here  already  !  "  said 
the  earl,  surprised  at  his  sudden  appearance. 

"  I  am  come  to  thank  your  lordship,"  said 
Andrew,  modestly. 

The  earl  was  as  much  astonished  at  the  diffi- 
dence with  which  this  answer  was  expi-essed  as 
Andrew  himself  was  at  the  exactitude  of  his  lord- 
ship's question.  Mordaunt  looked  on,  curiously 
examining  them  both. 

"  Say  nothing  about  thanks,  Wylie,"  cried  his 
lordship.  "  I  hope  what  Mr  Vellum  intends  to 
do  for  you  will  be  repaid  by  your  endeavours  to 
give  him  satisfaction." 

Andrew  replied,  still  diffidently,  "  The  will's 
hearty,  my  lord,  but  the  han's  weak ;  I  hope, 
howsomever,  that  your  lordship  will  let  me  do 
something  to  oblige  yoursel',  as  weel  as  Mr 
Vellum." 

Desirous  to  avoid  the  promptings  of  our  hero's 
gratitude,  the  earl  interrupted  him,  saying,  "  Pray, 
can  you  tell  me  how  this  got  into  the  newspaper  ?" 
showing  him  the  paragraph. 

Andrew  read  it  over  studiously,  and  then  said, 
"My  lord,  this  is  glammerie  ; "  and  he  then  ex- 
plained to  the  earl  that  he  suspected  it  was  a 


204  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

device  to  obviate  the  effect  of  the  former  para- 
graph. Mordaunt  was  surprised  at  the  sagacity 
of  the  seeming  simpleton.  His  lordship  was  no 
less  so ;  and,  pleased  with  the  coincidence  with 
his  own  opinion,  loudly  expressed  his  approbation 
of  the  conjecture. 

Our  hero  then  related  what  had  passed  between 
him  and  Nettle ;  adding  some  reflections  of  his 
own,  calculated,  as  he  intended,  to  lighten  the 
importance  which  he  supposed  the  earl  attached 
to  the  paragraph.  "  They  are  a  wheen  wily  gleds  l 
in  this  town,"  said  he,  slyly  looking  from  under 
his  bent  brows.  "  Though  it's  a  hang't  lee,  my 
lord,  I  hope  the  tae  half  o't  will  be  true,  and  that 
you  and  my  leddy " 

The  earl's  countenance  changed,  and  Andrew 
shrank  tremblingly  from  the  stern  rebuke  of  his 
eye  ;  but  Mordaunt,  who  saw  the  well-meant  pre- 
sumption of  the  observation,  interfered  and  said, 
"  You  are  quite  right,  Mr  Wylie  ;  and  you  could  not 
better  show  the  sense  of  obligation  which  you  seem 
to  feel  towards  his  lordship  than  by  wishing,  as  you 
do,  a  reconciliation  with  the  countess." 

Lord  Sandyford  felt  offended  with  Mordaunt  for 
the  freedom  with  which  he  addressed  himself  so 
openly  on  so  delicate  a  subject,  and  to  so  young  a 
man,  and  one,  too,  of  our  hero's  condition. 

Andrew,  however,  was  encouraged  by  this  inter- 
position, and  said,  "  Odsake,  my  lord,  ye  maunna 
flee  up  at  onything  I  say ;  for  it  would  be  an  ill 
1  A  whccn  u'ih/  ijlc:ls.  A  parcel  of  ...  kites. 


AN  ATTEMPT  205 

return  for  your  lordship's  goodness,  and  the  dis- 
cretion I  have  had  at  my  leddy's  han',  were  no 
I  to  ettle  my  best — 

"  Peace  !  "  cried  the  earl.  Andrew  looked  round 
to  Mordaunt,  coweringly  and  jocularly,  as  if  in 
dread  of  a  castigation. 

"  You  might  at  least  hear  what  Mr  Wylie  has 
to  say/'  cried  Mordaunt.  "  Kindness  at  all  times 
merits  civility." 

"  Well,  and  what  has  Mr  Wylie  to  say  ?  "  ex- 
claimed the  earl,  a  little  contemptuously,  looking 
at  our  hero,  who  was,  however,  none  daunted  by 
his  manner ;  on  the  contrary,  urged  by  gratitude 
and  the  encouragement  of  Mordaunt,  he  replied — 

"  I  didna  think  your  lordship  was  sic  a  spunkie  * 
— ye'll  no  mend  your  broken  nest,  my  lord,  by 
dabbing  at  it.  So,  out  o'  the  regard  I  hae  baith 
for  you  and  my  leddy,  I  would  speer  2  what  for  ye 
put  her  awa'  ?  " 

The  ear],  confounded  by  this  category,  almost 
laughed,  and  cried,  "  Why,  thou  paragon  of 
animals,  she  went  away  herself.", 

"  Poor  body  !  "  replied  Andrew,  "ye  maun  hae 
used  her  very  ill,  my  lord  ! " 

This  was  said  in  such  a  manner  that  Mordaunt 
and  the  carl  looked  at  each  other.  He  saw  their 
astonishment,  but  took  no  notice  of  it,  continuing, 
"She  was  a  fine  leddy — maybe  a  wee  that  dressy 
and  fond  o'  outgait3 — I'll  no  say  she  was  entirely 

1  Spunkie.     Irritable  person.  2  Sficcr.     Inquire. 

y  Uutyait.     Show. 


206  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

without  a  fault,  for  we  a'  hae  our  faults,  my  lord 
— and  I'm  in  a  great  ane  to  speak  wi'  this  freedom 
to  your  lordship ;  but  when  I  think  what  ye  hae 
done  for  me — I  was  a  friendless  lad,  and  ye  took 
me  by  the  han' — and  could  I  sit  still  and  see  scathe 
befall  my  benefactor,  I  wouldna  be  a  stirk  o'  the 
right  stock  that's  bred  on  the  Ian'  o'  Scotland." 

There  was  something  in  this  approaching  to 
energy ;  insomuch  that  the  earl  said,  "  I  am 
much  obliged  to  you  ;  I  thank  you  for  the  interest 
you  take  in  my  happiness.  It  does  honour  to 
your  feelings ;  but  you  will  oblige  me  by  saying 
no  more  on  the  subject." 

The  manner  in  which  his  lordship  spoke  was  at 
once  mild  and  firm.  It  admitted  of  no  reply,  and 
it  offended  no  feeling.  It  neither  made  our  hero 
sensible  that  lie  had  transgressed  the  limits  of 
decorum,  nor  that  he  ought  to  regret  what  he 
had  done  ;  but  it  effectually  closed  his  lips,  and 
he  rose  to  take  his  leave.  The  earl  said  to  him, 
as  he  was  on  the  point  of  retiring,  "  I  intended  to 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  with  Mr 
Vellum  before  leaving  town,  but  that,  I  find,  will 
not  now  be  convenient.  Make  my  compliments 
to  him,  and  say  that  he  will  have  the  goodness  to 
send  the  papers  I  want  to  Chastington  Hall,  as 
I  have  determined  to  set  off  early  to-morrow 
morning." 

Andrew,  with  humble  respectfulness,  and  more 
emotion  than  his  lordship  deemed  him  susceptible 
of,  then  withdrew. 


AN  ATTEMPT  20? 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  fellow/'  said  his 
lordship,  as  the  door  shut;  "we  should  have  been 
in  heroics,  with  handkerchiefs  at  our  tragical  eyes 
presently ;  and  as  I  do  not  think  the  Scottish 
dialect  is  at  all  sufficiently  sonorous  for  blank 
verse,  don't  you  think,  as  a  matter  of  taste,  it  was 
right  to  send  him  hence  ?  I  am  sorry,  however, 
to  have  been  so  peremptory  with  him.  The  gods 
play  with,  our  hearts  as  shuttlecocks.  Here  is  a 
woman,  that  I  did  not  believe  had  life  to  feel  even 
an  insult,  has  gone  off  a  flaming  seraph,  reddening 
with  hostility ;  and  an  unlicked  thing — becoming 
at  once  the  noblest  work  of  God — startling  my 
baser  humanity  almost  into  tears." 

During  the  time  that  his  lordship  was  thus 
speaking,  he  continued  walking  up  and  down 
the  library.  Sometimes  he  addressed  himself  to 
Mordaunt ;  but,  for  the  most  part,  what  he  said 
was  in  soliloquy,  and  he  was  evidently  deeply 
agitated.  At  last  he  made  a  full  stop,  and  said, 
"  I  am  really  persuaded  that  this  young  '  Edwin 
is  no  vulgar  boy.'  There  is  much  virtue  in  that 
awkward  simplicity  of  his  ;  for  it  begets  negligence 
towards  his  talents,  and  that  negligence  enables 
him  to  acquire  advantages  which  the  creature,  by 
a  curious  instinct,  somehow  uses  in  a  way  that  is 
positively  commanding,  but  in  any  other  individual 
would  be  downright  and  intolerable  presumption 
and  impudence," 

After  this  the  conversation  became  light  and 
general,  all  further  allusion  to  the  separation  being 


208  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

studiously  avoided.  The  earl  occasionally,  how- 
ever, spoke  of  his  intended  journey  next  morning 
to  Chastington  Hall ;  but,  as  if  there  was  some- 
thing unhappy  associated  with  the  idea,  he  as 
often  hastily  embraced  another  topic.  Before 
Mordaunt  left  him,  he  gave  orders  for  the  carriage 
to  be  ready  at  an  early  hour,  to  convey  him  from 
town. 

"  I  have  long  thought,"  said  he,  in  bidding 
Mordaunt  farewell,  "  that  excellence  was  a  very 
modest  ingredient ;  but  I  had  no  conception  that 
wisdom  lurked  in  so  strange  a  form  as  in  that 
creature  Wylie ;  therefore,  I  would  advise  you  to 
trust  him  in  your  conjugal  affair ;  and  if  he  do 
you  service,  which,  from  his  acuteness,  I  am  sure 
he  may,  you  will  not  neglect  to  reward  him. 
I  wish  that  I  had  noticed  his  true  character 
sooner." 


CHAPTER    XXIX 

The  Family  Mansion. 

CHASTINGTON  HALL,  the  principal  seat  of 

the  Sandyford  family,  was  one  of  those  fine  old 
mansions  which  are  only  to  be  seen  in  England, 
and  combine,  with  the  antique  grandeur  of  the 
baronial  castle,  the  cheerful  conveniences  of  the 
modern  villa.  It  was  erected  in  the  latter  part  of 
Queen  Elizabeth's  reign,  when  the  airy  pinnacles, 
turrets,  and  tracery,  of  the  Gothic  style  were  first 
attempted  to  be  assimilated  to  the  symmetry  of 
classic  architecture. 

The  courtyard  was  entered  by  a  stately  portal, 
surmounted  by  a  clock  in  a  templar  edifice, 
crowned  with  a  dome,  in  the  form  of  an  earl's 
coronet ;  and  the  quadrangle  of  the  court,  in  the 
centre  of  which  a  marble  fountain  threw  up  water 
from  the  shells  of  mermaids  and  tritons,  was  sur- 
rounded by  an  arcade.  Numerous  doors  opened 
from  this  arcade  to  the  lower  range  of  apartments, 
and  a  spacious  marble  staircase,  richly  adorned 
with  allegorical  paintings,  in  the  taste  of  Charles 
the  Second's  time,,  ascended  from  the  court  to 
splendid  suites  of  galleries  and  chambers,  ah1 


210  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

furnished  in  that  costly  and  massive  style  which 
accorded  with  the  formal  pageantry  of  the  magni- 
ficent courtiers  of  the  Stuarts. 

The  situation  was  chosen  with  admirable  taste 
and  judgment.  The  mansion  occupied  the  sum- 
mit of  a  gentle  rising  ground,  in  the  middle  of 
an  extensive  park,  naturally  commanding  a  wide 
expansive  prospect ;  and  the  approach  was  by  a 
superb  avenue  of  beech-trees  which  seemed  to 
droop  their  branches  in  salutation,  as  their  master, 
towards  the  close  of  the  day,  was  driven  rapidly 
towards  the  portal. 

The  earl  had  never  before  visited  this  princely 
place,  and  of  course  it  had  suffered  by  his  absence, 
although  the  servants  had  preserved  everything 
as  well  as  it  could  be  preserved  without  repairs 
and  renovations.  It  had  therefore,  in  some  degree, 
a  faded  and  melancholy  appearance  ;  and  when 
the  carnage  passed  through  the  grand  entrance, 
his  lordship  thought,  or  rather  felt,  that  the  echoes 
in  the  arcade  clamoured  as  if  they  had  been  sud- 
denly awakened  by  the  unusual  sound  of  wheels, 
and  rebuked  him  for  his  long  neglect. 

As  he  travelled  with  post-horses,  he  was  ac- 
companied only  by  Servinal,  his  valet  ;  indeed, 
he  had  determined  to  make  no  other  addition  to 
the  usual  establishment  at  Chastington  Hall,  the 
strict  economy  to  which  he  was  resolved  to  reduce 
himself  requiring  every  practical  retrenchment. 
During  the  greater  part  of  the  journey  he  had 
been  silent  and  thoughtful.  The  only  observa- 


THE  FAMILY  MANSION  211 

lion  which  he  made  in  the  whole  time  of  the 
last  stage  escaped  from  him  involuntarily  when 
he  first  beheld  the  numerous  gilded  domes  and 
turrets  of  the  mansion,  glittering  above  the  trees 
in  the  setting  sun.  It  was  simple,  brief,  and  em- 
phatic— "  Have  I  thought  of  sacrificing  this  ?  " 

The  carriage  drove  in  to  the  foot  of  the  grand 
staircase,  where  the  servants  were  assembled  to 
receive. him.  Tire  men  were,  for  the  most  part, 
grey-headed,  and  in  their  best  liveries  ;  but, 
although  the  colours  were  the  same,  the  fashion 
of  the  clothes  was  not  in  so  spruce  a  taste  as 
those  of  their  London  compeers ;  and  some  of 
them,  instead  of  smart  white  cotton  stockings, 
wore  their  legs  decently  clothed  in  grey  worsted. 
The  household  appearance  of  the  women  was 
no  less  peculiar.  They  likewise  were  dressed 
in  their  gayest  attire,  but  rather  in  the  orderly 
Sabine  simplicity  of  the  grange  and  farm  than,  in 
that  buxom  neatness  that  characterises  the  full- 
formed  female  domestics,  belonging  to  those  seats 
of  the  nobility  which  the  families  are  still  so 
patriotic  as  to  visit  regularly  in  summer,  like 
the  swallows  and  cuckoos. 

But  we  should  be  guilty  of  unpardonable  in- 
civility towards  Mrs  Valence,  the  housekeeper, 
were  we  to  allow  a  personage  of  her  importance 
to  be  dismissed  from  our  account  of  the  earl's 
reception  without  some  special  and  discriminative 
marks  of  our  regard  ;  particularly  as  his  lordship 
himself  showed,  by  the  mo  ;t  courteous  deference, 


212  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  high  esteem  in  which  he  held  her  character, 
and  the  equally  great  satisfaction  with  which  he 
was  persuaded,  at  the  first  glance,  she  had,  on  all 
occasions,  upheld  the  dignity  and  consideration  of 
the  family.  She  was  a  tall  and  ample  personage, 
with  a  gentle  oscillation  of  the  head,  which  seemed 
to  indicate  a  lofty  sense  of  her  own  supremacy 
rather  than  the  infirmity  of  a  slight  paralytic 
affection.  She  stood  on  the  third  step  of  the 
stair,  in  the  stately  superiority  of  a  full  suit  of 
dark-brown  rustling  double-tabinet,  of  which  the 
unstinted  flounces,  and  manifold  ruffle-cuffs,  bore 
testimony  to  the  taste  and  prodigality  of  the 
mantua-makers  of  other  times;  a  vast  well-starched 
kerchief-souffle  expanded  her  bosom  into  swanlike 
amplitude ;  and  her  hair  was  not  only  highly 
frizzled  and  powdered,  but  sustained  a  spacious 
structure  of  lace,  muslins,  catgut,  and  ribands, 
the  very  wiry  skeleton  of  which  was  sufficient  to 
have  furnished  iron  for  the  shackles  of  more  than 
twenty  perjured  lovers  in  these  degenerate  days. 
Her  hands  and  arms  were  invested  with  cambric 
gloves,  as  pure  as  the  napery  which  it  was  her 
pride  and  delight,  once  more,  before  she  died, 
to  give  out  that  morning  to  old  C'orkly,  the 
butler,  for  the  use  of  her  noble  master  ;  and  her 
feet  were  in  none  of  those  slij>-slop  things  that 
are  only  fit  for  the  bedchamber,  but  decorously  in- 
stalled in  high-heeled  red  morocco  shoes,  adorned 
with  knots  of  white  riband,  so  affluent  that  they 
attracted  the  attention  of  his  lordship,  as  she 


THE  FAMILY  MANSION  213 

conducted  him  through  the  picture-gallery  to  the 
principal  drawing-room,  and  he  could  not  refrain 
from  complimenting  her,  even  at  the  expense  of 
a  pun,  in  having  such  handsome  beaux  at  her 
feet. 

Mrs  Valence  stopped  instantly  at  the  words, 
and  placing  her  hands  formally  over  each  other, 
on  her  bosom,  made  him  as  solemn  a  curtsey  as 
the  Princess-Royal,  at  the  commencement  of  a 
minuet,  at  a  birthday  ball  of  her  late  most  gracious 
Majesty  Queen  Charlotte.  His  lordship,  with  no 
less  corresponding  gravity,  returned  a  profound 
bow  ;  and  when  she  had  recovered  her  wonted 
elevation,  he  followed  her  in  silence,  wondering 
into  what  venerable  palace,  amidst  the  pageant 
rites  and  olden  homages  of  Fairyland,  he  had 
been  so  curiously  translated. 

When  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  he  was 
pleased  with  the  domestic  taste  in  which  it  was 
evidently  set  for  use,  notwithstanding  the  heavy 
golden  grandeur  of  the  furniture  ;  but  felt  a  little 
disappointed  at  seeing  the  silver  chandeliers  and 
sconces  filled  with  candles.  However,  he  good- 
humouredly  resolved  to  allow  the  old  servants 
to  indulge  themselves  for  that  night,  nor,  on 
reflection,  was  he  averse  to  obtain,  unsought,  a 
specimen  of  the  hereditary  style  in  which  his 
ancestors  had  been  accustomed  to  live.  While 
he  was  cursorily  looking  at  the  pictures  which 
adorned  the  walls  (but,  as  the  sun  was  set,  he 
could  see  only  imperfectly),  his  valet  came  into 


214  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  room  to  inquire  if  he  intended  to  dress  for 
dinner. 

"  I  believe  it  is  not  worth  while,  Servinal.  But 
perhaps  I  ought :  they  will  expect  it,"  said  the 
earl. 

"  I  think  they  do,  my  lord,"  replied  Servinal. 

"Then,"  cried  the  earl,  "1  will  not  disappoint 
them.  Have  you  brought  a  court-dress  with 
you  ? " 

The  valet  smiled,  and  said  he  haa  not. 

When  his  lordship  had  dressed,  and  had  re- 
turned back  into  the  drawing-room,  the  bell  over 
the  portal  was  rung,  and  the  house-steward,  a 
respectable  old  man  out  of  livery,  announced 
that  dinner  was  ready.  The  earl  followed  him, 
and  immediately  on  entering  the  picture-gallery, 
another  old  man  proclaimed,  "  My  lord  ! "  upon 
which  the  folding-doors  at  the  end  of  the  gallery 
were  thrown  open  by  two  younger  footmen.  The 
earl  proceeded,  and  on  reaching  the  landing-place 
he  turned  round  to  Mrs  Valence,  who  was  stand- 
ing there,  and  said,  with  an  air  of  great  considera- 
tion, "  Pray,  does  Queen  Elizabeth,  with  the  noble 
Earl  of  Leicester,  dine  here  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not,  my  lord,"  replied  the  stately 
housekeeper,  with  undisturbed  consequentially. 

This  was  more  than  the  earl  expected,  and  it 
forced  him  to  laugh  as  he  descended  the  great 
staircase ;  but  on  entering  the  dining-room,  or 
rather,  as  it  was  called  among  the  household,  the 
banqueting-room,  he  started  on  seeing  a  table  laid 


THE  FAMILY  MANSION  215 

out  for  at  least  a  dozen  guests,  and  covered  with 
ponderous  ancient  massy  plate. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  he  exclaimed 
in  a  tone  of  displeasure.  "Who  is  to  dine  here  ?  " 

Corkly,  the  butler,  came  up,  and  with  three 
bows  told  him  that  "  it  was  an  old  custom  of  the 
family  to  dine  always  in  state  while  at  Chastington, 
in  order  to  be  prepared  to  receive  any  guests  that 
might  by  accident  come." 

The  "earl  would  have  said,  "  I  hope  it  is  not  ex- 
pected that  I  am  to  keep  open  house ; "  but  he 
checked  himself,  and  said  gaily,  "  Fashions  are 
somewhat  changed  since  the  golden  age — that 
is,  the  age  of  the  guineas,  Corkly.  However,  to- 
night perform  your  duty  as  you  were  wont  to  do 
in  my  father's  time  ;  or,  rather,  if  you  please,  in 
my  grandfather's." 

"  I  was  not,  my  lord,  in  the  service  of  Earl 
James,  your  lordship's  grandfather/'  said  Corkly, 
with  an  air  that  would  have  been  called  dignified 
in  an  old  courtier  speaking  of  George  the  Second  ; 
"but  I  have  been  forty-three  years  in  the  service 
of  your  loi'dsliip's  noble  family." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  earl  playfully;  "then  I 
must  take  lessons  from  you  as  to  the  etiquettes  I 
am  bound  to  observe  at  Chastington  ; "  and,  in 
saying  these  words,  he  seated  himself  at  the  table, 
when  one  of  the  servants  in  attendance  touched 
the  spring  of  a  large  musical  German  clock,  Avhich 
immediately  began  to  play  one  of  Handel's  over- 
tures. But  the  machinery  being  son:cv.-h::t  out 


216  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

of  tune,  the  earl  called  out  to  them  in  mercy 
to  stop  that  horrid  musical  ogre ;  and,  turning 
round  to  the  butler,  said,  "  Save  me  this  discord 
of  Magog's  accompaniment  to  my  knife  and  fork, 
and  I  will  not  interfere  with  your  rites  and 
homages  to-night." 

"  As  your  lordship  pleases/'  replied  Corkly,  with 
the  reverence  of  a  worshipper. 

The  eye  and  fancy  of  the  earl  were  thus  inte- 
rested and  amused  on  the  night  of  his  first  arrival 
at  the  great  mansion  of  his  ancestors.  There  was 
a  simplicity  in  the  domestics  which  pleased  him 
exceedingly,  and  their  little  awkwardnesses,  with 
the  formality  and  ceremonial  which  they  made 
use  of  in  their  attendance,  seemed  to  him  at  once 
venerable  and  picturesque.  Corkly  told  him  that, 
although  the  cellar  had  not  been  replenished  for 
more  than  thirty  years,  it  still  contained  several 
delicious  vintages,  and  the  earl  encouraged  the 
generous  old  man  to  expatiate  on  the  glories  of 
other  years ;  but  though  he  seemed  amused  by 
the  recital,  an  occasional  shade  came  over  his 
spirits,  and  he  reflected,  with  a  sigh,  on  the  un- 
honoured  years  he  had  squandered  away  in 
London. 

When  he  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  it  was 
superbly  illuminated  ;  but  his  heart  recoiled  from 
the  solitary  grandeur  around,  and  as  it  was  yet 
early  in  the  evening,  he  ordered  a  fire  to  be  lighted 
in  a  smaller  apartment.  He  inquired  if  there 
were  any  books  in  the  house,  and  heard,  with 


THE  FAMILY  MANSION  217 

surprise  and  delight,  that  it  contained  a  library 
of  many  thousand  volumes,  to  which,  however,  no 
addition  had  been  made  since  the  death  of  his 
father.  Indeed,  every  inquiry  served  to  remind 
him  how  much  he  had  neglected  this  princely 
mansion,  and  how  he  had  declined  from  the 
patriotic  aristocracy  of  his  fathers. 

The  following  morning  he  walked  into  the  park, 
and  saw  in  every  place  the  stateliest  trees  marked 
for  the  woodman,  and  many  already  felled. 

"  I  could  not  have  imagined,"  he  said,  in  writing 
to  Mordaunt,  and  mentioning  the  effect  on  his 
feelings,  "that  the  odd  trick  was  such  an  edge- 
tool." 


CHAPTER   XXX 

Noble  Authorship. 

JL  HE  first  week  after  the  arrival  of  Lord  Sandy- 
ford  at  Chastington  Hall  passed  more  agreeably 
than  might  have  been  expected,  considering  the 
suddenness  of  the  change  which  it  occasioned  in 
his  manner  of  living.  Two  or  three  days  were 
spent  in  examining  the  house,  and  the  curiosities 
which  remained  as  so  many  monuments  of  the 
taste  and  whim  of  his  ancestors ;  and,  above  all, 
in  an  inspection  of  the  family  pictures.  His 
lordship  had  some  pretensions  to  a  physiognomical 
perception,  of  character,  and  he  amused  himself 
with  conjectures  as  to  the  mind  and  disposition 
of  the  direct  line  from  which  he  was  himself  de- 
scended, tracing,  or  rather  fancying  that  he  traced, 
the  features  which  indicated  the  particular  points  of 
resemblance  in  their  respective  characters.  This 
recreation  was  occasionally  broken  in  upon  by 
visits  from  some  of  the  neighbouring  gentlemen, 
with  whom,  although  ho  received  them  with  his 
wonted  politeness,  he  showed  no  inclination  to 
cultivate  an  acquaintance;  on  the  contrary,  he 
took  several  opportunities  to  inform  them  that  lie 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  219 

had  come  to  Chastington  expressly  for  retirement. 
He  also  visited  his  domain;  and,  having  suspended 
the  general  orders  for  the  cutting  down  of  the 
timber,  he  formed  from  his  own  observation  another 
plan  of  thinning  the  woods,  without  materially 
affecting  the  beauty  of  the  sylvan  furniture  of  the 
park,  especially  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
mansion.  His  eye  had  a  natural  perception  of 
the  picturesque ;  .and  the  plan,  which  he  thus 
adopted,  instead  of  impairing  the  magnificence  of 
the  rides  and  walks,  had  the  effect  of  rendering 
them  more  pleasant  and  diversified  in  the  views. 
The  trees  which  were  felled  allowed  more  light 
(as  it  were)  to  be  thrown  upon  the  landscape,  and 
prospects  were  opened,  of  the  extent  of  which  no 
previous  conception  had  been  formed. 

It  was  his  custom  in  the  morning  to  ride  round 
the  park,  and  from  the  different  eminences  to 
examine  what  distant  objects  might  be  seen  from 
the  parts  covered  with  wood,  and  then  to  order 
the  woodmen  to  fell  in  such  direction  as  would 
bring  a  village  spire,  an  ancient  tower,  or  a  modern 
mansion,  into  the  termination  of  the  vista  which 
they  laid  open.  But  it  was  around  the  hall  that 
this  species  of  picturesque  economy  was  most 
judiciously  managed.  In  the  course  of  years  the 
timber  had  so  increased  in  magnitude  that  it 
enclosed  the  building  with  a  depth  and  darkness 
of  umbrageous  boughs  altogether  inconsistent  with 
the  florid  lightness  of  the  architecture,  the  effect 
of  which  produced  a  degree  of  gloom  and  solemnity 


220  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

in  the  building  strangely  at  variance  with  the 
fanciful  style  of  the  place.  The  earl,  by  throwing 
down  some  of  the  trees  which  had  grown  to  such 
a  height  as  to  intercept  the  views.,  and  by  letting 
in  the  light  through  the  general  masses  of  the 
surrounding  woods,  produced  a  change  truly  magi- 
cal ;  but  he  spared  the  celebrated  chestnut  which 
darkens  the  southern  windows.  The  lamentation 
in  the  neighbourhood  for  the  fine  old  trees  of 
Chastingtori  was  changed  into  rejoicing,  and  all  the 
visitors  declared  their  delight  and  satisfaction  at 
the  improvements. 

But  although,  in  this  manner,  the  earl  for  some 
time  created  not  only  amusement,  but  business,  for 
himself,  there  was  a  sameness  in  the  undertaking, 
and  a  patience  requisite,  which  did  not  exactly 
suit  the  ardour  and  activity  of  his  character,  and 
he  had  recourse  to  other  means  of  recreation. 
Having  prescribed  their  work  to  the  woodmen, 
he  resolved  to  wait  the  issue  of  the  full  effect ; 
and,  in  order  that  he  might  prevent  his  restless- 
ness from  preying  on  himself,  he  endeavoured  to 
find  pastime  in  changing  the  appearance  of  the 
state  apartments,  not  by  the  expensive  medium 
of  repairs  or  upholstery,  but  by  new  arrangements 
of  the  paintings  and  sculpture,  the  china  and  the 
cabinets.  But  still  there  was  something  wanting. 
This  also  he  found  must  become  a  subordinate 
concern — a  matter  of  occasional  recreation  ;  for  it 
afforded  none  of  that  earnest  exercise  to  the  mind 
which  he  longed  to  obtain.  At  last  he  had  re- 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  221 

course  to  the  library ;  and,  after  a  miscellaneous 
and  cursory  glance  at  the  collection,  he  set  him- 
self into  a  regular  course  of  historical  reading. 

To  read  was,  with  Lord  Sandyford,  to  think. 
Every  page  that  his  eye  travelled  furnished  some 
new  association  to  his  mind,  till  the  most  remark- 
able and  striking  incidents  of  general  history 
became  connected  with  the  passing  topics  of  his 
own  time,  —  for  the  French  Revolution  was 
then  raging  in  all  its  fury,  and  drawing  into 
its  destructive  whirlpool  the  venerable  institu- 
tions of  successive  wisdom  and  experience.  The 
excitement  which  this  systematic  acquisition  of 
knowledge  produced,  operated  to  an  immediate 
effect.  His  lordship  became  dissatisfied  with  the 
inadequate  policy  by  which  it  was  attempted  to 
suppress  the  natural  issue  of  a  long-continued 
accumulation  of  moral  impulses ;  and,  actuated 
by  the  new  light  which  he  had  acquired  on  the 
subject  of  national  mutations,  began  to  write  an 
historical  view  of  the  political  effects  of  popular 
opinions. 

When  he  had  finished  this  pamphlet,  he  was 
conscious  that,  however  just  his  reflections  and 
indisputable  his  facts,  it  was  not,  in  point  of  style 
and  arrangement,  such  as  would  do  him  credit  in 
the  character  of  an  author.  He  was  aware  that 
the  habit  he  had  acquired  of  contemplating  every- 
thing through  an  ironical  medium  in  some  degree 
affected  his  reasoning  even  in  his  most  serious 
moments ;  and  that  he  used  terms  and  phrases 


222  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

in  a  recondite  sense,  not  altogether  understood 
by  the  generality  of  the  public  ;  so  that,  while 
his  taste,  with  respect  to  the  composition  of 
others,  was  remarkably  pure  and  just,  he  feared 
that  his  own  work  might  be  considered  as  con- 
ceited in  its  diction,  and  deficient  in  that  air  of 
sincerity  essential  to  produce  effect.  He  there- 
fore longed  for  the  assistance  of  a  literary  friend 
to  correct  its  incongruities ;  but  there  was  no 
such  being  within  the  whole  compass  of  all  the 
adjacent  parishes.  At  one  time  he  thought  of 
writing  to  his  bookseller  in  London  to  procure,  and 
to  send  to  him  by  the  coach,  some  one  of  those 
retainers  of  the  press  who  execute  the  editorial 
duties  to  new  editions  of  old  works ;  but  he  had 
early  taken  an  anti-social  prejudice  against  authors 
and  artists  in  general,  and  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  having  his  sequestration  disturbed  by 
the  caprice  of  beings  whom  he  considered  as 
sorely  skinless  to  everything  that  but  seemed  to 
interfere  with  their  vanities.  Publish,  however, 
he  must :  he  felt  himself  urged  to  it  by  the  very 
hand  of  fate  itself,  and  he  could  not  resist  the 
force  of  a  necessity  that  was  as  irresistible  to  him 
as  if  he  had  been  the  hero  of  a  Greek  or  German 
tragedy,  yearning  to  commit  a  crime. 

In  this  dilemma  IK-  thought  of  our  hero,  of 
whose  prudence  he  had  begun  to  entertain  a 
favourable  opinion,  and  wrote  to  him  to  find  some 
clever  literary  man  who  would  undertake  to  pre- 
pare a  pamphlet  for  the  press ;  saying  that  he 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  2<23 

would  pay  liberally  for  the  assistance,  but  that  he 
wished  to  remain  unknown. 

Andrew  was  at  first  not  a  little  perplexed  by 
the  earl's  commission.  He  knew  no  author,  nor 
was  he  in  habits  of  intercourse  with  any  one  who 
did ;  till,  recollecting  Nettle,  the  reporter,  he 
resolved  to  apply  to  him,  with  a  previous  deter- 
mination, however,  not  to  employ  him  in  the 
business.  Accordingly,  the  same  afternoon  in 
which  he  received  his  lordship's  letter,  he  went 
to  the  newspaper-office,  under  the  pretext  of 
inquiring  of  Nettle  if  he  knew  of  any  person 
who  would  take  charge  of  a  small  parcel  to 
Scotland  for  him. 

No  visit  was  ever  better  timed  :  it  was  exactly  at 
the  wonted  hour  when  Nettle  usually  went  to  his 
chop-house  for  dinner;  and  Andrew,  while  speaking 
to  him  respecting  the  little  packet  he  had  to  send 
to  his  grandmother,  said,  "  But,  Mr  Nettle,  if  ye're 
gaun  to  seek  your  dinner,  it's  just  my  time  too,  and 
maybe  ye'll  no  object  to  let  me  go  with  you." 

Nettle  was  not  a  little  pleased  with  the  proposi- 
tion ;  for  possessing  a  strong  relish  of  drollery, 
Andrew  was  a  character  that  could  not  fail,  lie 
thought,  to  furnish  him  with  some  amusement. 

"  But,"  re  joined  our  hero,  when  he  found  his  com- 
pany accepted,  "  ye'll  no  tak  me  to  an  extravagant 
house — no  that  1  mind,  mair  than  my  neighbours, 
to  birl  my  bawbee  l  at  a  time,  but  in  ilka-day  meals 
I  am  obligated  to  hae  a  regard  for  frugality." 
1  Jjirl  my  bawbee.  Wharo  the  expense. 


221  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Nettle  profited  by  the  hint,  and  took  Andrew 
to  one  of  the  best  coffee-houses  in  the  neighbour 
hood.  Our  hero  perceived  his  drift ;  but  he  also 
thought  to  himself,  "  This  is  an  occasion  when  I 
should  birl  my  bawbee."  However,  upon  enter- 
ing the  room,  he  feigned  great  alarm,  and,  catch- 
ing hold  of  his  companion  earnestly  by  the  arm, 
said,  "  Noo,  Mr  Nettle,  I  hope  this  house  is  no 
aboon  half-a-crown.  Od,  Mr  Nettle,  I  dinna  like 
the  looks  o't — I  doot  the  folk  that  come  here 
drink  wine." 

Nettle  laughed,  and  seating  himself  at  one  of 
the  tables,  said,  "  Don't  be  frightened,  Andrew  : 
leave  the  matter  to  me — I'll  manage  everything 
in  the  most  economical  manner." 

"  Mind,  it's  on  condition  ye  do  sae  that  I  sit 
doun,"  replied  our  hero,  seemingly  very  awkwardly 
affected  by  the  appearance  of  the  company  around, 
as  if  a  young  man,  who  was  in  the  practice  of 
frequenting  the  tables  and  parties  of  the  most 
fashionable  houses,  was  likely  to  be  disconcerted 
by  the  migratory  visitants  of  a  coffee-house.  But 
he  perceived  that  the  reporter  was  uninformed  as 
to  this,  and  his  object  was  to  make  this  man  of 
the  town  subservient  to  his  purposes. 

Dinner  was  ordered  by  Nettle,  who,  while  it 
was  setting  down,  said  dryly,  "  It  is  usual,  you 
know,  to  have  a  bottle  of  white  wine  during 
dinner ;  but,  as  we  are  on  an  economical  regimen, 
I  will  only  order  a  pint." 

"  I   never  ordered  a  pint  o'   wine   since    I   was 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  225 

born,"  cried  Andrew  to  Nettle,  who  immediately 
said,  "  Oh,  very  well !  I  have  no  objection — • 
waiter,  bring  a  bottle." 

Our  hero  was  here  caught  in  his  own  snare, 
and  exclaimed  with  unaffected  sincerity,  "  A  whole 
bottle  ! " 

Nettle  was  exceedingly  diverted,  and  laughed 
at  his  own  joke,  especially  when  Andrew  said,  as 
the  wine  was  placed  en  the  table,  "This  is  what  I  ca' 
a  rank  shame  ; "  (but  he  was  much  less  displeased 
than  he  pretended,  and  cunningly  added,  "  I'm 
thinking  that  this  trade  of  translating  and  writing 
paragraphs  of  yours,  Mr  Nettle,  is  no  an  ill  line,  an' 
a  body  could  get  weel  intil't,  and  had  a  name  "). 

"  I  think,"  replied  Nettle,  delighted  with  his 
companion,  "  that  you  ought  to  try  your  hand, 
Andrew.  I'm  sure  anything  from  your  pen  must 
amuse  the  public." 

"  Hooly,  hooly,"  cried  Andrew;  "a"  in  a  gude 
time,  Mr  Nettle.  I  hae  my  notions  on  the  subjec, 
but  we  maun  creep  before  we  gang  ;  only  there's  a 
curiosity  in  the  craft  that  I  dinna  weel  understand, 
and  that  is,  how  to  correc  the  press,  and  to  put  in 
the  points,  wi'  the  lave  o'  the  wee  perjinkities,1 — 
that,  I  hae  a  thought,  is  no  an  easy  concern." 

"As  to  the  wee  perjinkities,  as  you  call  them, 
and  matters  of  that  sort,  «the  printers  take  a  great, 
part  of  the  trouble  off  the  author's  hands.  But 
the-  plague  is  with  the  substantial  matter,  Andrew  ; 
defects  in  that  are  not  so  easily  remedied." 

1  Lore  .  .  .  perjinkities.     The  remainder  of  the  niceties. 

\OL.    I.  P 


226  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  But  surely  they  can  be  remedied  ?  "  exclaimed 
our  sly  simpleton. 

Nettle  was  mightily  pleased  with  this  sally,  and 
said,  "  Andrew,  when  your  book's  ready  to  print, 
let  me  know,  and  I'll  give  you  a  lift  in  that 
way." 

'  "  It's  very  discreet  o'  you  to  offer  sae  ;  but  is't 
true  that  there  are  folk  in  London  wha  mak  a 
leeving  by  sic-like  wark  ?  " 

"  True  !  "  cried  Nettle.  "  How  do  you  suppose 
the  speeches  of  members  of  Parliament  are  got  up 
for  publication— the  voyages  and  travels  of  country 
gentlemen — novels  of  ladies  of  fashion — or  any  of 
the  other  et  ccetera  by  which  illiterate  opulence 
seeks  to  obtain  literary  renown  ? " 

"  Weel,  this  London  is  a  wonderful  place," 
replied  Andrew;  "and  are  there  really  folk  that 
do  thae  kind  o'  jobs  for  siller  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  there  are ;  and  they  make  a  snug 
thing  of  it." 

"  Noo,  Mr  Nettle,  that's  what  I  canna  compre- 
hend. Hae  they  shops  or  offices  ?  Whar  do  they 
bide  ?  And  how  are  they  kent  ?  They  hae  nae 
signs  up — what's  their  denomination  ? " 

"  It's  not  easy  to  answer  so  many  questions  in 
a  breath,"  replied  Nettle ;  "  but  I  could  name 
you  fifty.  There,  for  example,  is  our  own  country- 
man, Mole  :  he  makes  a  thousand  a  year  by  the 
business." 

"Weel,  to  be  sure,  how  hidden  things  are 
brought  to  light  !  "  exclaimed  Andrew.  "  I  ne'er 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  227 

could  fathom  by  what  hook  or  crook  he  was 
leeving,  nor  whar  he  leeves.  Whar  is't  ?  " 

Nettle  told  him ;  and  Andrew,  inwardly  over- 
joyed, proposed  to  drink  his  health,  as  a  credit 
to  Scotland,  in  a  bumper,  although  the  cloth  was 
not  removed. 

"Stop,  stop,  man:  it's  not  yet  time:  let  us 
have  the  table  cleared  before  we  begin  to  toasts," 
said  Nettle,  laughin-g  at  Andrew's  supposed  rustic 
simplicity. 

Our  hero  then  inquired  what  books  Mole  had 
edited  and  prepared  for  the  press,  and  in  what 
degree  of  estimation  they  were  held.  Nettle  told 
him  the  names  of  several ;  but  Andrew  affected 
to  doubt  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  and  alleged 
that  they  were  perhaps  not  at  all  of  that  degree  of 
merit  which  his  companion  asserted.  This  begot 
something  like  a  difference  of  opinion  between 
them,  which  ended  in  the  reiteration  of  Nettle's 
assertion,  and  an  affirmation  that  the  publishers 
would  verify  the  correctness  of  what  he  main- 
tained. Andrew,  however,  did  not  urge  the 
matter  further.  He  had  thus  adroitly  acquired 
the  name  and  address  of  an  able  editor,  and  the 
names  of  the  booksellers  by  whom  he  was  em- 
ployed. He  had,  in  consequence,  nothing  further 
to  say  to  Nettle  that  evening ;  and  accordingly, 
pushing  the  wine-decanter  past  him,  he  rose  to 
go  away,  saying,  "  I'm  no  for  ony  mair." 

"Sit  clown,"  cried  Nettle,  "and  finish  the  wine. 
The  port  here  is  excellent." 


228  SIR  ANDREW  WFLIE 

"  Ye  wouldna  hae  me,  surely,  Mr  Nettle,  to  sit 
till  I'm  taver't?1  As  sure's  death,  I  fin'  the  wine 
rinnin'  in  my  head  already — I'll  be  fou  if  I  drink 
ony  mair.  No ;  ye  maun  just  let  me  gang  my 
ways.  Ye'll  pay  the  reckoning ;  and  if  it  dinna 
exceed  five  shillings,  I'll  no  grudge  the  cost  o' 
your  conversation,  which  has  been  vera  curious 
and  agreeable — vera  curious  indeed,  Mr  Nettle. 
But  gude-night ; "  and  in  saying  this,  Andrew 
hurried  from  the  house. 

His  first  course  was  to  the  shop  of  Mole's  prin- 
cipal publisher,  where  lie  inquired  for  one  of  the 
books  ;  and,  upon  seeing  it,  he  looked  into  several 
passages  as  if  he  had  been  examining  them  criti- 
cally, and  said,  "  I  dinna  think,  now,  that  this  is  a 
very  weel-written  work." 

The  bookseller  was  a  little  surprised  at  the 
remark ;  but,  as  booksellers  are  accustomed  to 
see  wise  and  learned  characters  in  very  queer 
and  odd  shapes,  lie  gave  Andrew  credit  for  some 
critical  acumen,  while  he  controverted  his  opinion, 
maintaining  the  merits  of  the  style  and  composi 
tion  as  both  of  the  first  class.  Andrew,  however, 
stuck  to  his  point,  and  finally  declined  to  purchase 
the  work  :  satisfied,  however,  that  the  publisher 
had  a  high  opinion  of  its  literary  merits.  On 
leaving  that  shop  he  went  to  another,  and  another, 
until  he  found  the  opinion  of  Nettle  fully  verified. 
He  then  proceeded  to  the  chambers  of  Mole, 
whom  he  found  at  home,  and  whom  he  thus  ad- 
1  Taver't.  Stupified. 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  229 

dressed,  although  they  had  no  previous  acquaint- 
ance : — "  Mr  Mole,  I  hae  a  bit  turn  o'  wark  that 
wouldna  be  the  waur  o'  your  helping  hand." 

This  abruptness  startled  the  engineer  of  litera- 
ture ;  but,  as  he  had  seen  the  unlicked  figure  of 
Andrew  at  some  of  the  fashionable  houses,  where 
he  occasionally  helped  to  make  sensible  speeches 
for  the  gentlemen,  he  divined,  in  some  degree, 
the  object  of  his  visit,  and  civilly  requested  him 
to  be  seated,  saying,  "  Pray,  may  I  ask  the  nature 
of  the  business  ?  " 

"  It's  a  kind  o'  a  book  that  I  hae  a  thought 
anent ;  but  no  being  just  as  I  could  wish,  in  some 
respects,  so  particular  in  the  grammaticals,  I  think 
that,  before  putting  it  out  to  the  world,  it  wouldna 
be  the  waur  o'  being  coll'd  and  kaim't l  by  an 
experienced  han'  like  yours." 

"  Have  you  the  manuscript  with  you?"  inquired 
Mole,  endeavouring  to  look  as  serious  as  possible. 

"  No,  sir ;  I  wantit  first  to  ken  if  you  would 
undertake  the  work." 

"That  will,  in  some  degree,  depend  on  the 
nature  of  the  subject  and  the  amount  of  the 
remuneration,"  replied  Mole.  "  Do  you  mean 
simply  that  I  should  revise  the  manuscript,  or  re- 
write the  work  entirely  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  ye're  no  to  hain  2  your  ability  in 
the  business ;   but  what  I  want  to  ken  is  the  cost. 
Supposing  now  the  vera  utmost,  and  that  ye  were  to 
write  it  all  over  again,  what  would  you  expect  ?  " 
1  ColVd  and  kaivi't.     Cut  and  combed.  -  Hain.     Spare. 


230  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  You  will  not  grudge  to  pay  me  at  the  rate  of 
ten  guineas  a  pica  sheet  octavo  ?  " 

"  I'm  no  versed  in  your  trade  ;  but  let  me  see  a 
book  that  you  would  mak  your  ellwand,  and  I'll 
maybe  can  then  make  a  guess  at  the  estimate." 
An  octavo  volume,  printed  on  pica  type,  was  pro- 
duced, and  the  extent  of  £  sheet  explained  to  him. 
"Dear  me,"  he  cried,  "but  this,  sir,  is  a  dreadfu' 
price — ten  guineas  for  doing  the  like  o'  that !  Na, 
na,  sir,  I  couldna  think  o'mair  than  five  pounds;  and, 
if  ye  gie  satisfaction,  I'll  try  to  make  it  guineas." 

In  the  end,  however,  a  bargain  was  made,  by 
which  it  was  agreed  that  the  manuscript  was  to  be 
submitted  to  the  architect ;  and,  if  entire  re-edi- 
fication was  found  requisite,  the  remuneration  was 
to  be  at  the  rate  of  seven  pounds  ten  shillings. 
Mole  pleaded  earnestly  for  guineas ;  but  Andrew 
declared  he  could  by  no  possibility  afford  a  far- 
thing more.  The  same  evening  he  wrote  to  Lord 
Sandyford  that  he  had  found  a  friend  with  some 
experience  in  the  book-making  line ;  and  that,  if 
his  lordship  would  send  up  his  manuscript,  per- 
haps he  could  get  him  to  undertake  the  job ;  but 
that  he  was  a  particular  man,  and  very  high  in 
his  price,  which  was  commonly  at  the  rate  of  ten 
guineas  the  sheet  of  pica  demy  octavo.  Never- 
theless, he  assured  his  lordship  he  would  try  and 
get  it  done  on  as  moderate  terms  as  possible. 

The  earl  knew  as  little  of  pica  demy  as  Andrew 
himself,  nor  did  he  care.  The  manuscript  was 
sent  by  a  special  messenger  to  our  hero,  who  lost 


NOBLE  AUTHORSHIP  231 

no  time  in  taking  it  to  Mole,  by  whom  it  was 
cursorily  glanced  over  in  his  presence. 

Mole  was  struck  with  the  composition,  and 
the  general  elegance  of  taste  and  imagination  that 
scintillated  in  many  passages ;  and  he  said  to 
Andrew,  with  a  sharp  and  an  inquisitive  look,  "  Is 
this  your  work  ?  " 

"  It's  what  I  spoke  to  you  anent.  I'm  thinking 
it's  no  sae  bad  as  ye  expectit." 

"  Bad ! "  exclaimed  Mole ;  "  it  is  full  of  the 
finest  conceptions  of  a  masterly  genius.  This  is 
inspiration — I  am  utterly  astonished." 

"  It's  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  sir,"  said  Andrew, 
dryly,  "  that  ye're  so  weel  satisfied  wi't.  I  trust 
it  will  make  you  abate  something  in  the  price." 

"We  have  made  an  agreement,  and  the  terms 
must  be  fulfilled.  I  cannot  say  that  the  work  will 
require  to  be  entirely  rewritten.  The  material  is 
precious,  and  wrought  beautifully  in  many  passages; 
but  it  may,  nevertheless,  require  to  be  recast." 

"  Then,"  said  Andrew,  "  since  ye  like  it  so  well, 
I'll  pay  the  seven  pounds  ten  per  sheet  pica  demy 
octavo,  but  no  a  single  farthing  mair,  mind  that ; 
for  if  you  hand  me  to  the  straights  o'  the  bargain, 
I'll  just  be  as  severe  upon  you.  So  a'  that  I  hae 
to  say  for  the  present  is  the  old  by-word,  '  That 
they  that  do  their  turn  in  time,  sit  half  idle  ' — ye'll 
make  what  speed  ye  dow.'' 

The  admiration  of  Mole  was  rather  increased 
than  diminished  when,  after  the  departure  of  our 
hero,  he  read  the  manuscript  more  leisurely.  He 


232  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

deemed  it  utterly  impossible  that  a  being  so  un- 
couth could  have  written  such  a  work  ;  but  he  had 
been  told,  when  he  first  observed  his  odd  figure  in 
society,  that  he  was  a  creature  of  infinite  whim 
and  fancy ;  and  the  manuscript  was  still  more 
calculated  than  this  account  to  set  all  theories  of 
physiognomy  at  defiance. 

As  for  Andrew  himself,  he  exulted  in  the  bar- 
gain, and  at  his  own  address  in  suppressing,  in 
the  first  instance,  the  rate  at  which  he  had  agreed 
the  revision  should  be  made.  But  the  effect  in- 
tended by  informing  the  earl  that  the  price  was 
to  be  seven  pounds  ten  shillings  per  sheet,  instead 
of  ten  guineas,  failed  entirely  in  one  respect ;  for 
his  lordship  was  no  further  satisfied  with  the  bar- 
gain than  as  another  proof  of  the  simplicity  and 
integrity  of  his  agent, — at  least  it  so  appeared  in 
the  sequel;  for  when  the  manuscript  was  recast  and 
sent  back  to  Chastington  Hall,  he  remitted  a  hun- 
dred pounds  for  Mole,  which  was  nearly  double  the 
sum  stipulated.  Andrew,  in  taking  the  money  to 
him,  said,  "  Ye '11  find,  sir,  that  I'm  no  waur  than  my 
word ;  there's  a  hundred-pound  note,  and  as  for 
the  balance,  ye'll  just  keep  it  to  buy  a  snuff-box 
or  ony  other  playock  l  that  may  please  you  better." 

This  liberality  was,  to  the  amazed  reviser,  still 
more  extraordinary,  after  the  higgling  he  had  suf- 
fered, than  even  the  intellectual  merits  of  the  pam- 
phlet ;  and  in  all  companies  afterwards,  he  spoke  of 
Andrew  as  an  incomprehensible  prodigy  of  genius. 
1  Playuck.  Plaything. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

A  Secret  Expedition. 

J_N  the  meantime,  the  situation  of  Lady  Sandy- 
ford  at  Elderbower  with  the  dowager  was  far 
from  yielding  any  consolation  to  her  mortified 
spirit ;  for  although  the  conduct  of  the  old  lady 
was  truly  exemplary,  there  was  yet  a  sadness  in 
her  kindness  that  penetrated  the  heart  of  the 
countess  with  anguish.  The  mother-lady  was  con- 
stantly picturing  to  her  own  imagination  the 
regular  and  gradual  ruin  of  her  only  and  darling 
son — he  who  had  been  the  pride  of  her  maternal 
heart,  the  joy  of  her  widowhood,  and  the  glory 
of  her  expectations.  No  complaint  escaped  her ; 
but  numberless  little  accidental  expressions  be- 
trayed the  secret  perturbation  of  her  spirit,  and 
more  than  once  she  earnestly  urged  the  young 
countess  to  alloAv  her  to  write  to  the  earl,  and 
to  invite  him  to  Elderbower. 

The  first  time  that  the  dowager  clearly  ex- 
pressed this  wish  was  one  day  after  dinner.  The 
weather  out  of  doors  was  raw  and  gloomy.  An 
unusual  depression  had  all  the  morning  weighed 
upon  the  spirits  of  both  the  ladies ;  and  the 


234  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

countess  began  to  distrust  the  power  with  which 
she  supposed  herself  capable  of  adopting  a  new 
frame  and  course  of  life  that  would  one  day  extort 
the  admiration  of  her  lord,  and  revive  that  affec- 
tion which  she  had  lost,  not  forfeited.  The  old 
lady  eagerly  urged  her  suit ;  affirming  that  it  was 
impossible  her  son  could  have  fallen  so  entirely 
from  the  original  magnanimity  of  his  nature  as  to 
slight  an  endeavour  to  recover  his  esteem,  which 
had  all  the  energy  of  contrition  with  the  grandeur 
of  virtue.  "  Believe  me,  Lady  Sandyford,"  ex- 
claimed the  partial  mother,  "  that  if  he  knew  the 
depth  of  your  sorrow  at  the  misfortune  that  has 
come  upon  you  both,  there  is  nothing  within  the 
reach  of  his  power  and  ability  that  he  would  not 
exert  to  console  you." 

The  countess  burst  into  tears,  and  replied, 
"  Alas  !  my  dear  mother,  in  what  is  this  to  end  ? 
I  am  conscious  of  my  innocence.  I  know  that 
I  have  never  swerved  from  the  purity  of  a  wife ; 
but  I  have  failed  to  retain  the  affections  of  my 
husband,  because,  in  the  lightness  of  youth  and 
the  intoxication  of  vanity,  I  was  more  gratified 
with  the  loquacious  admiration  of  those  whom  I 
in  reality  despised  than  with  the  quiet  and  placid 
tenor  of  his  affection.  My  eyes  are  opened  to 
my  error — they  have  been  opened  by  the  conse- 
quences— :  vexation  for  my  disregard  may  have 
irritated  him  into  many  of  those  follies  that  both 
your  ladyship  and  I  deplore,  and  may  have  to 
mourn  all  the  remainder  of  our  lives.  But  what 


A  SECRET  EXPEDITION  235 

I  now  most  immediately  suffer  is  the  grief  of 
knowing  that  while  I  am  here  you  have  the 
monitor  of  your  affliction  constantly  before  you ; 
and,  alas  !  I  cannot  go  away  without  giving  some 
warranting  to  the  evil  report  of  the  world." 

"  But  why  Avill  you  not  allow  me  to  tell  George 
the  state  of  your  feelings,  and  leave  it  to  himself 
to  determine  whether  he  will  come  to  Elder- 
bower  or  not  ?  "  - 

The  dowager,  in  saying  this,  took  the  countess 
gently  by  the  hand,  adding,  "  Indeed,  my  dear 
Augusta,  you  are  wrong  in  this — you  are  sacri- 
ficing yourself — you  are  distressing  me ;  and  I 
fear  you  may  have  cause  to  rue  the  effect  on 
George." 

Lady  Sandyford  dried  her  eyes,  and  said,  "  Ah, 
I  fear  your  ladyship  thinks  of  him  as  if  he  was 
still  a  boy  !  You  are  little  aware  of  the  latent 
strength  of  his  character ;  nor  was  I,  till  reflect 
ing  on  many  things  since  I  came  to  this  house. 
Whatever  his  faults  or  his  errors  may  be,  mean- 
ness is  not  one  of  them.  Nothing  would  be  so 
easy  as  to  bring  him  here,  out  of  compassion  ;  but 
I  cannot  be  an  object  of  compassion  to  the  man 
I  love.  The  very  virtue  of  his  generosity  takes 
the  nature  of  a  vice  towards  me,  and  I  dare  not 
appeal  to  it." 

She  could  add  no  more.  The  tears  rushed  into 
her  eyes  ;  and  she  wept  so  bitterly  that  the  old 
lady  became  alarmed,  and  said,  "This,  Augusta, 
is  what  I  did  not  look  for  from  you.  Let  us  drop 


236  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  subject.  But  I  will  write  to  George ;  and, 
without  saying  you  are  with  me,  I  will  inquire 
into  the  circumstances,  as  they  may  have  affected 
him,  by  which  your  separation  has  been  produced  : 
an  event  of  which  I  am  totally  unable  at  present 
to  form  any  proper  opinion." 

In  the  course  of  the  same  afternoon  the  dowager 
wrote  to  the  earl,  believing  he  was  still  in  London  ; 
and,  while  engaged  with  her  letter,  the  countess 
went  to  her  own  room,  where  Flounce  was  notably 
employed  in  distributing  her  lady's  wardrobe  from 
the  trunks.  The  box  which  belonged  to  the 
mother  of  the  orphan  was  standing  on  the  floor ; 
and  Flounce,  two  or  three  times  before  she  excited 
any  attention  towards  it,  expressed  her  wonder 
about  what  it  could  contain.  At  last,  however, 
she  was  successful :  the  eyes  of  the  countess  were 
directed  towards  the  package ;  and  her  mind  be- 
coming disengaged  from  the  passion  of  her  own 
thoughts,  her  curiosity  was  awakened. 

"  I  think,  Flounce,"  said  her  ladyship,  "  we 
should  examine  that  box,  and  take  an  inventory 
of  what  it  contains  for  the  poor  infant.  The  con- 
tents cannot  be  valuable ;  but  they  may  be  such 
as  to  help  the  orphan  at  some  future  day  to  dis- 
cover her  relations." 

"  I  dare  say  they  will,"  replied  Flounce  ;  "  and  I 
have  my  own  reasons  for  thinking  she  will  be  found 
to  have  come  of  very  great  people  in  foreign  parts. 
Does  not  your  ladyship  recollect  what  delightful 
ear-rin<js  were  in  her  mother's  ears  ?  " 


A  SECRET  EXPEDITION  237 

After  some  discussion  respecting  the  means  of 
satisfying  this, — as  to  whether  a  hammer  was 
requisite,  or  the  poker  might  serve, — it  was  agreed 
that  the  assistance  of  the  latter  potentate  should 
be  first  summoned,  and,  if  unsuccessful,  the 
hammer  might  then  be  invited  to  take  a  part  in 
the  business.  The  poker,  however,  proved,  in  the 
strenuous  hands  of  Flounce,  abundantly  effective  : 
the  lid  of  the  box  was  wrenched  open,  and  the 
contents  exposed  to  view. 

The  first  sight  presented  nothing  remarkable. 
It  consisted  of  different  articles  of  female  finery, 
neither  of  a  very  high  nor  (as  Flounce  truly  ob- 
served) of  a  very  prime  and  fashionable  quality. 
But,  on  exploring  the  mine,  a  small  casket  was 
found  ;  it  was  seized  by  her  ladyship,  and  opened 
in  haste,  while  Flounce  stood,  the  figure  of  wonder, 
by  her  side.  The  contents,  however,  were  not  of 
any  particular  value  ;  but  among  them  was  the 
miniature  of  a  gentleman  which  the  countess 
recognised  as  that  of  Mr  Ferrers.  A  letter  also 
was  found  from  Ferrers,  written  in  such  imperfect 
Italian  as  men  of  fashion  are  in  the  practice  of 
addressing  to  the  virgin  train  of  the  opera  and 
ballet.  It  was  not,  however,  of  an  either  very 
amorous  or  amiable  kind,  for  it  seemed  to  be  the 
dismissal  from  his  protection  of  the  unfortunate 
mother. 

The  first  movement  which  the  perusal  produced 
in  the  spirit  of  the  countess  was  not  of  the  most 
philanthropic  kind  ;  as  for  Flounce,  she  loudly  and 


238  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

vehemently  protested  against  all  the  male  "  sect " 
(as  she  called  them)  for  a  pack  of  infidel  wretches. 

After  various  disquisitions  on  this  discovery,  it 
was  agreed  that,  under  existing  circumstances,  it 
would  be  as  well,  for  the  present,  to  say  nothing 
in  the  house  about  it ;  but  that  Flounce  should 
return  to  the  Rose  and  Crown,  and  explain  to  the 
landlady,  in  confidence,  the  relationship  of  the 
child,  and  urge  her  to  take  the  necessary  means 
to  acquaint  the  father  of  Monimia's  situation. 

This  was  a  charming  mission,  and  exactly  suited 
to  the  genius  of  Flounce,  who  accordingly  went 
off  next  day  by  the  London  coach,  which  passed 
the  gate  of  Elderbower ;  and,  that  the  servants 
•might  not  be  wondering  and  guessing  as  to  the 
objects  of  her  journey,  she  prudently  deemed  it 
expedient  to  inform  them  that  she  was  going  to 
town  to  bring  some  additions  to  her  lady's  ward- 
robe. The  landlady  of  the  Rose  and  Crown  re- 
ceived her  with  great  cordiality  ;  but  when,  after 
many  solemn  injunctions,  Flounce  disclosed  the 
object  of  her  visit,  Mrs  Vintage  coolly  said,  "She 
would  neither  make  nor  meddle  in  the  matter ; 
for  it  was  rumoured  that  Mr  Ferrers  had  gambled 
away  his  whole  estate,  and  that  C'astle  Rooks- 
borough  was  expected  to  be  sold  immediately." 
Flounce  was  not  quite  content  with  the  conduct 
of  the  landlady,  and  returned  by  the  coach  the 
same  evening,  somewhat  in  a  huffy  humour,  greatly 
to  the  surprise  of  all  the  household  at  Elderbower, 
who,  being  in  the  practice  of  calculating  the 


A  SECRET  EXPEDITION  239 

distance,  discovered  that  she  could  not  possibly 
have  been  at  London.  Flounce,  however,  was 
not  to  be  confounded,  as  she  told  her  lady,  by 
any  suspectifying  persons,  and  on  the  first  expres- 
sion of  John  Luncheon's  surprise,  when  he  saw 
her  alight,  she  informed  him  that,  having  forgotten 
something  very  particular,  she  was  obliged  to  re- 
turn. But  there  was  a  mystery  and  a  flurry  in 
her  appearance  that  John  did  not  much  like,  as  he 
did  not,  indeed,  much  like  herself;  and  he  made 
his  remarks  on  her  accordingly  to  his  fellow- 
servants  in  the  hall,  the  effect  of  which  had  no 
tendency  to  exalt  their  opinion  either  of  mistress 
or  of  maid. 

The  whole  affair,  however,  might  have  soon 
passed  off,  and  a  plausible  excuse  been  devised 
for  not  sending  Flounce  again  to  town ;  but  the 
wonder  was  considerably  augmented  by  another 
equally  unaccountable  excursion  which  she  made 
the  same  evening. 

In  a  laudatory  account  to  her  lady  of  the  infant 
— for  she  had  summoned  the  nurse  and  Monimia 
to  the  Rose  and  Crown — she  deplored  the  mean- 
ness of  its  attire,  declaring  that  it  was  dressed  in 
old  trolloping  things  which  had  belonged  to  Mrs 
Peony's  brat ;  adding  that  she  had  seen  in  a  shop- 
window  in  Eldertoii  the  most  beautiful  baby-linen, 
advising  her  lady  to  purchase  a  supply  for  the 
poor  dear  little  creature,  just  in  charity,  although 
it  was  not  a  legitimate.  The  countess  consented 
to  this,  and  gave  the  requisite  money.  Flounce 


240  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

was  not  one  of  those  foolish  virgins  who  slumber 
and  sleep  in  their  tasks ;  on  the  contrary,  she 
could  never  rest  till  her  work  was  done,  especially 
if  it  was  a  business  seasoned  with  any  species  of 
adventure  or  of  mystery.  Within  less  than  two 
hours  after  her  return,  she  contrived  to  slip  out 
alone,  and  to  purchase  the  articles  she  wanted. 
These  she  directed  herself  for  Mrs  Peony,  to 
whom  she  wrote  on  the  subject  also  in  the  shop 
where  she  had  bought  them ;  and  carried  the 
parcel  in  her  own  hands  to  the  London  coach- 
office  at  the  Nag's  Head,  and  saw  them  booked 
with  her  own  eyes,  all  in  the  most  commendable 
spirit  of  faithful  agency. 

The  purchase  of  fine  baby-clothes  in  a  small 
market-town,  especially  by  a  lady's-maid,  is  an 
event  of  some  consequence  ;  and  the  expedition 
of  Flounce  caused  a  good  deal  of  conversation, 
insomuch  that  the  landlady  at  the  Nag's  Head, 
where  John  Luncheon  and  the  coachman  were 
in  the  practice  of  nightly  taking  their  pipe  and 
potation,  heard  of  it  next  day,  and,  mentioning 
the  subject  to  her  husband,  he  recollected  the 
circumstance  of  Flounce  bringing  a  parcel  for 
the  coach,  and  being  very  particular  in  seeing 
it  booked.  By  this  means  the  affair  reached  the 
ears  of  John  Luncheon,  who,  having  no  remark- 
able esteem  for  Flounce,  whom  he  described  as  a 
pert  London  hussy,  surmised  something  not  much 
to  the  credit  of  her  virgin  purity,  and  com- 
municated his  suspicions  to  Betty  Blabbingwell, 


A  SECRET  EXPEDITION  241 

one  of  the  mauls,  who  rehearsed  it,  with  some 
circumstantial  and  descriptive  details  additional, 
to  Mrs  Polisher,  the  housekeeper.  Mrs  Polisher, 
however,  was  not  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the 
report,  but  went  herself  to  the  shop  where  the 
purchase  was  made,  where  she  not  only  ascer- 
tained the  whole  circumstances  of  the  fact,  but 
also  that  the  articles  purchased  were  of  the  very 
finest  description,  Altogether  unlikely,  indeed,  for 
any  chambermaid's  accidental  progeny.  But  Mrs 
Polisher  was  a  prudent  woman,  and  she  said 
nothing.  She,  however,  made  her  own  reflections, 
and  drew  an  inference  that  riveted  her  antipathy 
against  the  countess, — an  antipathy  which  had 
its  origin  in  the  great  affection  which  she  bore 
her  young  master  from  the  first  hour  that  she 
dandled  him  in  her  arms  wrhen  a  baby.  But  she 
did  not  disclose  her  suspicions  to  the  dowager, 
being  determined  to  find  out  the  whole  affair 
before  unnecessarily  occasioning  a  rupture,  which 
she  anticipated  would  soon,  be  complete  and 
final. 

In  this  manner  the  seeds  of  distrust  were  carried 
into  that  asylum  where  Lady  Sandyford  had  hoped 
to  prepare  herself  for  appearing  with  renewed 
advantage  in  the  eyes  of  her  lord.  Perhaps  she 
erred  in  concealing  the  discovery  which  she  had 
made  of  Ferrers'  child,  and  the  protection  which 
she  had  bestowed  on  the  orphan.  Nor  is  it  easy 
to  explain  the  feeling  which  influenced  her.  But 
a  vague  notion  had  floated  across  her  mind  occa- 

VOL.    I.  O 


242  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

sionally  that  the  paragraph  which  involved  her  in 
so  much  trouble  referred  to  his  marked  attentions  ; 
and  it  operated  with  the  effect  of  a  motive  in 
restraining  her  from  ever  alluding  to  him  in  her 
conversations  with  the  dowager. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

A  Mystery. 

ALTHOUGH  the  earl  had  got  his  manuscript 
prepared  for  the  press,  as  we  have  described,  the 
publication  was  delayed  by  the  occurrence  of  a 
disagreeable  incident.  One  morning,  on  reading 
the  county  newspaper,  he  happened  to  observe 
the  advertisement  of  a  sale  by  auction  of  the 
furniture  of  Castle  Rooksborough ;  and  among 
other  things  enumerated  was  a  quantity  of  china, 
said  to  have  been  the  same  which  was  used  by 
James  I.  at  his  accession  to  the  English  crown. 
In  the  changes  of  his  furniture,  his  lordship 
wanted  some  additional  old  china  to  complete  an 
effect  in  one  of  the  state  apartments  ;  and  having 
nothing  very  particular  at  the  time  to  engage  his 
attention,  he  determined  to  attend  the  sale  of 
Ferrers'  effects. 

Castle  Rooksborough  was,  as  we  have  already 
mentioned,  situated  near  the  Rose  and  Crown, 
about  thirty  miles  from  Chastington  Hall.  It  was, 
therefore,  011  account  of  the  distance,  in  some 
degree  necessarv  that  his  lordship  should  remain 
there  all  night ;  and  being  desirous  that  his  mother 


244  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

should  not  hear  of  his  being  so  near  her  neighbour- 
hood,— for  Elderbower  was  but  one  stage  off, — he 
resolved  to  go  alone  to  the  sale,  that  he  might 
not  be  known  by  his  servants. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he  reached  the 
Rose  and  Crown,  and  nothing  particular  occurred 
that  night.  Next  morning,  before  the  sale,  he 
walked  in  the  park  of  Castle  Rooksborough  ;  and 
although  the  air  was  clear  and  bracing,  and  the 
spring  sat  in  every  bower,  crowned  with  her 
gayest  garlands,  there  was  something  in  the  scene 
and  circumstances  which  did  not  altogether  tend 
to  exhilarate  his  spirits.  The  estate  was  dilapi- 
dated by  a  spendthrift  possessor,  and  ordered  to 
be  sold,  with  all  the  movables,  by  his  creditors. 
It  had  been  for  ages  in  the  possession  of  the 
prodigal's  ancestors,  and  a  general  murmur  pre- 
vailed throughout  the  county  against  the  unhappy 
man's  indiscretions.  The  reflections  which  these 
things  produced  sank  into  the  heart  of  Lord 
Sandyford,  and  placed  his  own  conduct  in  a  mor- 
tifying light  before  him. 

As  he  was  straying  over  the  grounds,  he  fell  in 
with  a  young  country  girl  carrying  a  child.  The 
brilliant  dark  Italian  eyes  of  the  infant  attracted 
his  attention ;  and  the  style  in  which  it  was 
dressed, — so  much  above  the  appearance  of  the 
nurse, — induced  him  to  stop  and  speak  to  her. 
The  beauty  of  the  infant  won  upon  his  affections, 
and  his  curiosity  was  excited  to  learn  how  a  child, 
apparently  better  born,  came  to  be  entrusted  to 


A  MYSTERY  245 

so  young,  and  seemingly  so  improper,  a  nurse. 
The  girl,  however,  could  give  him  no  satisfaction. 
All  that  she  knew  respecting  it  was  that  she  had 
been  hired  by  the  landlady  of  the  Rose  and 
Crown  to  take  care  of  it  while  it  remained  with 
Mrs  Peony,  who  was  employed  by  a  grand  lady  to 
suckle  it. 

There  appeared  to  the  earl  some  mystery  in 
this  ;  and  when  he'had  purchased  the  lot  of  china, 
which  he  ordered  to  be  sent  to  Chastington  Hall, 
he  returned  to  the  inn  to  hold  some  conversation 
with  the  landlady  on  the  subject  of  Monimia, — 
for  the  child  was  that  orphan. 

Mrs  Vintage  of  the  Rose  and  Crown  did  not 
prove  quite  so  communicative  as  he  expected. 
She  only  civilly  answered  his  questions,  and  said 
no  more  than  what  a  direct  response  required. 

"  Do  you  know  the  parents  of  the  child  ?  "  said 
his  lordship.  "  They  must  be  persons  of  some 
condition,  I  should  think,  by  the  dress  of  the 
infant." 

"  As  to  that  I  cannot  say ;  I  have  never  seen 
either  of  them.  The  mother  is  dead ;  and  as 
for  the  father, — I  can  give  you  no  account  of 
him." 

"  Then  who  in  this  neighbourhood  pays  the 
nurse  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  replied  Mrs  Vintage. 

"  And  how  are  you  repaid  ?  "  said  the  inquisitive 
peer. 

"  I  do  not  think   I  am  bound  to  answer  that 


246  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

question  to  a  stranger,"  replied  the  prudent  land- 
lady of  the  Rose  and  Crown. 

His  lordship,  finding  that  she  was  resolved  not 
to  satisfy  his  curiosity  in  a  direct  manner,  and 
her  guarded  answers  having  only  served  to  whet 
his  inquisitiveness,  took  another  and  a  more  in- 
genious course  with  her.  He  affected  to  let  the 
topic  drop,  and  began  to  question  her  about  the 
neighbourhood,  and  about  the  travellers  of  rank 
who  had  recently  stopped  at  the  house, — -a  subject 
on  which  she  delighted  to  expatiate.  Among 
others,  she  mentioned  the  transit  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Lady  Sandyford  in  her  father's  carriage  :  in 
speaking  of  Avhom  there  was  a  degree  of  embar- 
rassment in  her  manner  that  strongly  excited  his 
attention. 

The  sharpness  of  the  earl's  interrogatories  in- 
creased her  confusion  ;  and  she  contrived,  in  order 
to  avoid  the  keenness  of  his  questioning,  to  leave 
the  room  just  at  the  moment  when  she  had  led 
him  to  suspect  that  there  was  some  mystery  con- 
nected with  the  countess  and  the  child. 

The  agitation  into  which  he  was  thrown  by  this 
conversation  is  not  to  be  described.  He  almost 
instantly  ordered  a  post-chaise,  and  returned  to 
Chastington  Hall  burning  with  thoughts  of  sus- 
picion. At  the  first  stage  where  he  changed  he 
met  Servinal,  his  valet,  returning  from  London, 
where  he  had  been  sent  on  some  business  ;  he  had 
come  back  with  the  coach  on  which  Flounce  had 
travelled  from  Klderbower  on  her  mission  to  Castle 


A  MYSTERY  247 

Rooksborough,  and  he  heard  of  that  damsel's 
secret  expedition — she  herself  having  told  the 
coachman  that  she  was  Lady  Sandyford's  maid. 

On  seeing  his  master  alight,  and  not  being 
aware  of  the  state  of  his  feelings,  Servinal  informed 
his  lordship  of  that  circumstance,  wondering  what 
business  could  have  taken  Flounce  to  the  Rose 
and  Crown.  This  was  confirmation  to  all  his 
lordship's  jealousy.;  and  when  he  resumed  his 
chair  at  night  in  the  library  of  Chastington,  his 
very  soul  was  boiling  with  indignation  against  the 
insolence  (as  he  now  deemed  it)  of  the  message 
which  Sir  Charles  Runnington  had  brought  from 
the  marquis.  But  suddenly,  in  the  fury  of  his 
passion,  the  remembrance  of  the  part  he  had  him- 
self performed  as  a  husband  came  like  a  blast  from 
the  frozen  ocean,  and  chilled  his  blood. 

The  temper  of  his  feelings  changed.  The 
countess,  in  the  youth  and  bloom  of  her  bridal 
charms,  rose  in  the  freshness  of  his  early  fond- 
ness, and  moved  him  to  sorrow  and  remorse.  All 
other  feelings  were  absorbed  in  contrition,  and  he 
wept  with  the  profuse  tears  of  lamenting  child- 
hood. 

In  an  instant,  however,  the  paroxysm  took 
another  turn,  and  he  reflected  on  the  sincerity 
with  which  he  had  loved,  and  how  coldly  his 
ardour  had  been  met  :  how  negligently  his  tastes 
and  his  predilections  were  regarded  ;  and,  giving 
way  again  to  the  impulse  of  these  reflections,  he 
accused  the  countess  as  the  most  insensible  of 


248  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

women — the  most  artful,  perfidious,  and  base, — 
and,  starting  from  his  seat,  rushed  across  the 
room,  with  desperation  in  his  looks,  and  his  hands 
fiercely  clenched  and  upraised.  In  that  moment 
the  door  opened,  and  his  mother  entered. 

His  surprise  at  her  appearance  was  inexpres- 
sible, and  still  more  when,  in  pressing  him  to  her 
bosom,  and  weeping  on  his  neck,  she  said,  "  Alas  ! 
my  unhappy  boy,  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you  in 
this  condition." 

The  venerable  matron,  unable  to  repress  her 
maternal  feelings  when,  by  accident,  she  heard 
that  he  had  retired  from  London  to  Chasting- 
ton  Hall,  determined  to  visit  him.  Nor  did  the 
countess  oppose  this  natural  solicitude.  When 
the  first  reciprocity  of  affection  was  over,  the 
dowager  took  a  seat  beside  her  son,  and  calmly 
remonstrated  against  the  seclusion  in  which  he 
had  too  suddenly  shut  himself  up  ;  expressing  her 
hope  that  the  breach  between  him  and  his  wife 
was  not  irreparable. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  can  you  think  me 
able  to  submit  to  the  degradation  of  respecting  a 
flagrant  adulteress  ?  I  have  such  proof.  I  have 
seen  with  my  own  eyes  the  living  evidence  of 
her  guilt.  Oh  !  let  us  speak  of  her  no  more,  let 
her  perish  in  the  unproclaimed  infamy  to  which 
she  has  sunk  !  " 

The  dowager  was  thunderstruck,  and  remained 
looking  at  him,  and  unable  to  speak.  But  when 
his  agitation  had  in  some  degree  subsided,  she 


A  MYSTERY  24-9 

recovered  her  self-possession,  and  inquired  to  what 
circumstances  and  proofs  of  guilt  he  had  alluded. 
This  led  to  an  account  of  his  excursion,  and  to  the 
supposed  discovery  he  had  made  of  Monimia.  The 
old  lady  could  not  credit  the  story,  and  expressed 
her  suspicion  of  some  mistake  on  his  part,  which 
had  the  effect  of  reviving  all  his  indignant  feelings. 

"Mother!"  he  exclaimed,  "you  do  not  know 
the  woman — her  whole  soul  is  engaged  with  no- 
thing but  herself — she  could  never  see  attention 
shown  to  any  other  without  considering  it  as  some- 
thing unjustly  taken  from  herself — she  never  felt 
that  her  interests  and  affections  were  wedded 
to  mine,  but  I'egarded  them  as  distinct  and  pre- 
eminent— she  worshipped  no  other  god  but  herself 
— she  made  me  feel,  from  the  fatal  day  of  out 
marriage,  that  there  was  nothing  mutual  between 
us,  that  I  was  only  subsidiary  to  her.  The  sense 
of  that  discovery  drove  me  to  despair, — a  despair 
that  wore  the  mask  of  pleasure  to  the  world,  while 
worse  than  ten  thousand  scorpions  was  stinging 
me  at  the  heart.  In  all  that  wild  and  wicked 
interval,  she  calmly  set  herself  out  for  adulation  ; 
never  once  did  she  look  as  if  she  felt  any  appre- 
hension for  the  issue  of  a  career  that  she  could 
not  but  see  must  terminate  in  ruin, — even  in  those 
hours  of  remorse  and  ennui,  when  one  gentle 
wish  from  her  might  have  recalled  me  to  myself, 
did  ever  any  such  pass  the  cold  marble  of  her 
lips  ?  " 

"This   will    not   do,    George/'   interposed    the 


250  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

dowager,  with  an  accent  of  entreaty  and  modera- 
tion. "  This  vehemence  of  feeling  is  not  what  the 
object  deserves,  if  she  is  so  unworthy  as  you  have 
represented  her.  But  calm  yourself ;  it  is  possible 
there  may  be  some  misunderstanding  or  miscon- 
jecture  in  all  that  you  have  told  me." 

"There  is  neither  conjecture  nor  misunder- 
standing in  what  I  have  felt,"  replied  the  earl ; 
"  but  let  us  drop  the  subject.  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  at  Chastington,  and  I  will  show  you  to-morrow 
the  improvements  I  am  making." 

In  this  abrupt  way  his  lordship  changed  the 
conversation,  and,  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes, 
was  almost  as  cheerful  with  his  mother  as  if  he 
had  never  given  her  any  reason  to  deplore  his  folly, 
nor  had  any  to  do  so  himself.  But  determined  in 
his  own  mind  to  sift  the  matter  thoroughly,  since 
it  was  possible  there  might  be  some  mistake,  he 
wrote  the  same  evening  to  Mr  Vellum,  requesting 
Wylie  to  be  sent  to  assist  him  in  the  arrangement 
of  some  domestic  concerns.  He  said  nothing  of 
the  business  for  which  he  wished  this  assistance, 
but  allowed  the  solicitor  to  imagine  that  it  might 
be  with  reference  to  the  papers  and  suggestions 
which  the  earl,  a  few  posts  before,  had  received 
relative  to  the  state  of  his  income  and  debts. 

The  situation  of  the  dowager  was  most  embar- 
rassing. When  she  parted  from  the  countess,  she 
had  promised  to  return  on  the  third  day,  or  to 
write.  But  with  the  disagreeable  news  she  had 
received,  neither  could  properly  be  done.  At  the 


A  MYSTERY  251 

same  time,  however,  such  had  been  the  favour- 
able light  in  which  her  daughter-in-law  appeared, 
from  the  moment  of  her  arrival  at  Elderbower, 
that  she  would  not  allow  herself  to  entertain  any 
thought  derogatory  from  her  honour.  She  ex- 
pected that  the  earl  would  have  set  out  the  next 
day  to  Castle  Rooksborough  again,  to  examine  the 
mystery  there  more  leisurely ;  but  he  evinced  no 
disposition  to  do  so.-  He  merely  said,  after  break- 
fast, that  he  had  written  to  London  for  a  young 
gentleman  who,  he  thought,  might  be  useful  in 
helping  him  to  investigate  the  mystery  of  the 
child  of  the  Rose  and  Crown:  "For,"  said  he 
gaily,  "  until  we  discover  its  parentage,  we  can 
assign  it  no  better  sire  and  dam." 

But  if  the  arrival  of  his  mother  disturbed  the 
monotony  of  the  earl's  retirement,  it  was  an  event 
of  delightful  importance  to  the  domestics  at  Chas- 
tington  Hall.  Mrs  Valence  exulted  in  the  op- 
portunity which  it  afforded  to  her  of  displaying, 
before  so  thorough  a  judge  as  her  ladyship,  with 
what  care,  and  in  what  perfect  beauty,  she  had 
preserved  every  article  which  had  been  committed 
to  her  charge  ;  nor  was  there  a  servant  in  the 
house  who  had  not  some  voucher  to  produce  of 
f.delity  and  vigilance.  All  received  their  due 
meed  of  dignified  commendation,  and  all  of  them 
rejoiced  in  the  greatness  of  that  reward. 

Her  arrival  was  productive  of  other  cheerful 
consequences  to  the  household.  The  shyness 
with  which  the  earl  received  the  visits  of  the 


252  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

neighbouring  gentlemen  had,  in  a  great  measure, 
suspended  the  intercourse  that  might  otherwise 
have  arisen ;  but  the  elderly  matrons  in  their 
families,  who  had  been  acquainted  with  the  dowa- 
ger in  the  time  of  her  lord,  on  hearing  that 
she  had  arrived  at  Chastington,  came  nocking  in 
crowds  to  see  her,  so  that,  for  a  day  or  two,  there 
was  something  like  a  stir  about  the  house. 

The  presence  of  a  Lady  Sandyford  at  the  Hall 
was,  indeed,  like  the  spring :  it  drew  out  from 
their  winter  seats,  as  gay  as  tulips  from  their 
bulbs,  all  the  ladies  in  the  vicinity ;  and  many 
a  sable  son  of  the  Church  was  seen  slowly  moving 
towards  the  portal,  as  sleek  and  as  plump  as  the 
snails  that  the  genial  influence  of  the  season  had 
induced  to  come  abroad.  Among  other  visitors, 
the  dowager  was  pleased  to  discover,  in  a  little 
smart  old  man,  in  black  satin  inexpressibles,  with 
sky-blue  silk  stockings,  golden  buckles,  a  white 
waistcoat,  and  a  green  coat,  with  his  smirking 
face  dapperly  set  in  a  trim  white  tie-wig,  Dr  Tre- 
foil, whom  she  had  herself  been  chiefly  instru- 
mental in  bringing  into  notice  when  a  young  man  : 
not,  however,  so  much  on  account  of  his  profes- 
sional abilities,  as  for  a  certain  dainty  and  pleasing 
method  of  treating  those  little  irksomenesses  of  the 
sex  that  are  often  as  afflicting  to  themselves  and 
their  friends  as  more  serious  diseases.  The  doctor, 
in  his  youth,  had  been  a  beau  :  indeed,  his  ap- 
pearance bore  incontestable  proofs  of  that  his- 
torical fact ;  but,  notwithstanding  all  the  pretty 


A  MYSTERY  253 

little  compliments  which  he  was  daily  in  the 
practice  of  paying  the  ladies,  he  still  remained  a 
bachelor,  and  was  now  determined  to  die,  as  he 
said,  a  martyr  to  his  humanity.  For  it  seems  the 
doctor  had,  like  many  other  sage  and  learned 
personages,  become  a  coavort  to  the  Malthusian 
heresy,  then  recently  piomulgated,  and  was 
alarmed  at  the  hazard  we  run  of  being  elbowed 
out  of  the  world,  in  spite  of  the  Faculty,  war, 
pestilence,  famine,  and  sudden  death. 

Scarcely  had  her  old  acquaintance  offered  his 
congratulations  at  seeing  her  ladyship  look  so 
well,  when,  recollecting  his  delicacy  and  address, 
it  immediately  occurred  to  her  that  lie  might  be 
a  fit  person  to  employ  as  an  agent  in  sifting  the 
mystery  connected  with  the  birth  of  the  child. 
But  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  revert  to  the 
state  and  situation  of  the  young  countess,  who,  in 
the  meantime,  was  left  as  dull  as  any  lady  of 
fashion  could  well  be  that  had  actually  happened 
to  suffer  the  enamel  of  her  reputation  to  be 
damaged. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

A  Discovery 

VV  HEN  the  countess  heard  that  the  earl  also 
had,  suddenly  after  her  departure  from  London, 
quitted  the  town  and  retired  to  Chastington  Hall, 
her  mind  was  seized  with  an  unaccountable  anxiety 
and  apprehension.  She  ascribed  the  cause  at 
first,  naturally  enough,  to  his  wish  to  avoid  their 
mutual  friends  until  the  separation  had  blown 
over  ;  but  when  her  father  wrote  that  their  house 
had  been  taken  possession  of  by  Mr  Vellum,  and 
that  the  establishment  was  broken  up,  she  felt 
that  a  change  indeed  had  taken  place,  as  much 
beyond  her  control  as  it  was  above  her  compre- 
hension. That  Lord  Sandyford  should  disen- 
tangle himself  at  once,  and  as  it  were  by  force, 
from  all  his  town  connections,  seemed  to  her  a 
prodigy  of  which  she  could  form  no  just  estimate. 
She  sometimes  thought  it  was  but  the  temporary 
resolution  of  a  fit  of  spleen  ;  but  she  remembered, 
with  a  feeling  to  which  she  could  assign  no  name, 
that  he  had  often  manifested  a  decision  ;md  firm- 
ness that  belied  that  carelessness  which  she  had 
considered  as  the  strongest  peculiarity  of  his  char- 


A  DISCOVERY  .     255 

acter.  The  event  interested  her  curiosity  as  well 
as  affected  her  sensibility  ;  and  she  was  glad  when 
the  dowager  proposed  to  visit  him  at  Chastington. 

Nothing,  however,  could  exceed  her  chagrin, 
when,  instead  of  the  return  of  the  old  lady  on  the 
third  day,  according  to  her  promise,  she  received 
a  note,  simply  stating  that  it  was  the  dowager's 
intention  to  remain  some  time  at  the  Hall,  and 
without  containing. a  single  word  on  any  other 
subject.  This  was  even  still  more  mysterious 
than  the  sudden  alteration  in  the  conduct  of  the 
earl,  while  it  seemed  to  spring  from  the  same 
cause.  It  grieved  and  it  vexed  her,  and  affected 
her  best  thoughts  and  calmest  moments  with  in- 
quietude and  despondency.  She  felt,  sometimes, 
as  if  she  had  been  abandoned  to  solitude  and 
suffering ;  and  though  conscious  that  she  had 
committed  no  crime  to  entail  so  bitter  a  punish- 
ment, she  confessed  to  herself  that  she  had  been 
perhaps  too  late  in  considering  that  the  preserva- 
tion of  a  husband's  love  is  often  the  most  difficult, 
as  it  is  always  the  most  delicate,  duty  of  a  wife. 

When  the  dowager  had  been  absent  four  days, 
a  servant  came  from  the  Hall  to  make  some 
addition  to  her  wardrobe ;  and  from  him  his 
unfortunate  mistress  heard  that  it  was  doubtful 
when  she  would  return.  She  also  learned  that 
the  earl  had  been  informed  by  his  mother  that 
she  was  at  Elderbower.  All  this  was  incom- 
prehensible, and  turned  her  pillow  into  thorns. 
Flounce,  who  saw  her  anxiety,  and  guessed 


256  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

something  of  her  thoughts,  exerted  her  utmost 
powers  of  talk  and  tattle  to  amuse  her,  without 
effect ;  at  last  she  proposed  they  should  make  an 
excursion  to  see  the  orphan. 

"It  is  such  a  beauty/'  said  Flounce  :  "has  the 
most  charming  eyes ;  it  will  do  your  poor  heart 
good  to  see  the  pretty  dear.  Besides,  it  is  but 
twelve  miles  off.  We  can  go  there  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  whisk  back  to  dinner  with  all  the  ease 
in  the  world." 

The  countess  was  not  in  a  disposition  to  contro- 
vert the  exhoi-tation  of  Flounce  ;  and  accordingly 
a  post-chaise  was  ordered,  and  the  lady,  attended 
only  by  her  waiting-gentlewoman,  set  off  to  visit 
the  child  of  the  Rose  and  Crown. 

The  sale  at  the  Castle  had  lasted  several  days, 
but  it  was  all  over  before  they  arrived,  and  the 
mansion  shut  up. 

After  amusing  herself  for  a  few  minutes  with 
the  infant  Monimia,  whose  beauty  certainly  did 
not  appear  to  have  been  exaggerated  by  Flounce, 
the  countess  strayed  into  the  Castle-park  alone, 
leaving  Flounce  to  gossip  with  Mrs  Peony.  The 
day  was  remarkably  fine  for  the  season,  and  the 
spring  was  in  full  verdure  ;  but  there  was  a 
solemnity  in  the  woods, — all  marked  for  the  axe 
of  the  feller, — and  a  silence  in  the  venerable 
mansion,  —  every  window  being  closed,  —  that 
touched  the  heart  of  the  solitary  with  inexpres- 
sible sadness.  She  walked  round  the  walls,  and 
looked  for  some  time  at  a  number  of  swallows, 


A  DISCOVERY  257 

which,  as  if  informed  that  the  house  would  be 
long  untenantedj  had  that  morning  begun  to 
build  their  nests  in  several  of  the  window- 
corners. 

As  she  was  indulging  the  train  of  reflections 
which  this  little  incident  awakened,  she  saw  a 
gentleman  pass  hurriedly  across  the  lawn,  and 
enter  a  small  gate  in  the  garden-wall  which  she 
had  not  before  noticed.  His  figure  was  familiar 
to  her  ;  but  the  rapidity  of  his  pace,  and  the 
intervention  of  the  boughs  of  the  shrubbery,  pre- 
vented her  from  seeing  him  distinctly. 

There  was  something  in.  his  air  and  haste  which 
startled  her  ;  and  a  sentiment  more  deserving  the 
name  of  interest  than  curiosity  led  her  to  follow 
him  to  the  gate,  which  he  had  left  open.  On. 
looking  in,  she  Avas  surprised  at  the  beauty  of  the 
garden,  but  her  eye  speedily  searched  around  for 
the  stranger.  He  was,  however,  nowhere  to  be 
seen. 

As  she  was  standing  with  the  door  in  her  hand, 
she  observed  a  puff  of  smoke  rise  from  behind  the 
corner  of  a  conservatory,  and,  immediately  after, 
the  stranger  rush  from  the  same  place  with  a  pistol 
in  his  hand.  His  appearance  left  her  in  no  doubt 
that  he  meditated  a  desperate  deed  against  him- 
self; and,  prompted  by  the  irresistible  impulse 
of  the  moment,  she  darted  forward  and  snatched 
the  weapon  from  his  hand.  In  the  same  instant 
she  recognised  in  him  Mr  Ferrers,  the  unfortu- 
nate owner  of  the  castle.  lie  also  knew  her,  and 


258  SIR  ANDREW  AVYLIE 

exclaimed,  "  Gracious  Heaven  !  Lady  Sandyford 
here ! " 

A  brief  conversation  followed.  He  declared 
himself  utterly  ruined  :  all  his  friends  had  deserted 
him,  and  he  had  none  left  but  death  :  no  home 
but  the  grave.  Her  ladyship  was  excessively 
shocked  :  she  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and, 
still  holding  the  pistol,  implored  him.  to  desist 
from  his  dreadful  intent. 

"Alas,  madam!"  cried  the  frantic  man,  "you 
may  as  well  tell  him  who  is  expiring  of  a  fever 
not  to  die.  Despair  is  my  disease ;  and  I  am 
as  much  its  victim  as  the  lazar  that  perishes  of 
malady  in  an  hospital.  I  have  stooped  to  beg- 
gary, I  have  scarcely  refrained  from  crime  ;  but 
all  has  been  of  no  avail.  A  curse  is  upon  me, 
and  misery  in  my  blood.  It  is  inhuman,  lady, 
to  break  thus  upon  the  secret  horrors  of  a  dying 
wretch.  Leave  me — oh,  leave  me,  Lady  Sandy- 
ford,  to  my  fate  !  " 

He  made  an  effort  to  seize  the  pistol  again  ; 
but  she  had  the  presence  of  mind,  though  agi- 
tated beyond  the  power  of  speaking,  to  plunge 
it  into  a  pond  where  the  gardeners  filled  their 
watering-pans. 

Ferrers,  on  seeing  this  action,  started  back,  and 
said  in  a  voice  that  was  seemingly  calm,  but 
awfully  emphatic,  "  I  have  heard  or  read  that 
sometimes  in  those  black  moments  when  all 
chance  of  help  deserts  the  hope  and  reason  of 
man,  Providence  is  pleased  to  manifest  its  power 


A  DISCOVERY  259 

and  watchfulness.  Has  it  sent  you  to  save  me 
from  perdition  ?  "  And  in  saying  these  words, 
he  knelt  and  kissed  her  hand  with  the  reverence 
and  awe  of  adoration. 

In  this  crisis,  the  Dowager  Lady  Sandyford, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  Dr  Trefoil,  entered  the 
garden ;  but,  on  seeing  this  scene,  immediately 
withdrew.  The  old  lady  recognised  her  daughter- 
in-law,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  hurried  back 
to  her  carriage,  which  stood  at  the  entrance  to 
the  park.  The  doctor,  who  was  unacquainted 
with  the  countess,  made  several  attempts,  as  they 
hastened  back,  to  break  the  consternation  of  the 
dowager,  by  joking  on  their  mal-intrusion ;  but 
she  fearfully  silenced  him  by  wildly  shaking  her 
head. 

On  reaching  the  carriage,  he  handed  her  in, 
and  then  took  a  seat  beside  her. 

"Where  shall  we  drive?"  said  the  servant,  as 
he  shut  the  door. 

"Home,  home,  home,  to  Chastington." 

The  countess,  unconscious  of  the  evil  construc- 
tion that  was,  perhaps  naturally  enough,  put  upon 
the  situation  in  which  she  had  been  discovered,  re- 
treated from  the  impassioned  gratitude  of  Ferrers, 
and  hastened  back  to  the  Rose  and  Crown,  where 
she  learned,  with  extreme  vexation,  that  the 
Dowager  Lady  Sandyford  had  been  there  with 
a  gentleman  anxiously  inquiring  for  the  orphan. 

"I  do  believe,"  said  the  landlady,  as  she  com- 
municated this  news,  "  they  have  come  from  Chas- 


260  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

tington  on  purpose ;  and  I  dare  say  they  will  be 
back  presently,  for  the  nurse,  with  your  maid, 
is  walking  in  Rooksborough  Park  Avith  the  child, 
where  they  have  gone  to  seek  her.  I  happened  to 
be  out  of  the  way  when  her  ladyship  arrived,  and 
she  asked  (I  am  told)  very  earnestly  to  see  me." 

While  they  were  speaking,  the  nurse,  with 
Flounce  and  Monimia,  were  seen  coming  quickly 
towards  the  inn.  Flounce  had  recognised  the 
carriage  and  livery  from  a  distance,  and  was  has- 
tening to  ascertain  the  cause  of  so  unexpected 
a  phenomenon,  when  she  saw  it  drive  suddenly 
away. 

The  spirits  of  the  countess  were  exhausted  by 
the  painful  trial  to  which  her  feelings  had  been 
subjected.  A  presentiment  of  misfortune  op- 
pressed her  heart ;  and  during  the  greatest  part 
of  the  journey  back  to  Elclerbower  she  seldom 
exchanged  words  with  Flounce.  They  were,  in- 
deed, half-way  before  anything  occurred  to  move 
her  from  the  melancholy  abstraction  into  which 
she  had  fallen.  It  happened,  however,  that  on 
reaching  the  cross-roads,  where  the  branch  that 
led  past  Chastington  diverges,  they  met  the 
London  coach,  on  the  outside  of  which,  covered 
with  dust,  sat  our  hero,  on  his  way  to  the  Hall. 

"  As  I  live,"  exclaimed  Flounce,  "  if  there  be 
not  that  Dutch  nut-cracker,  the  Scotch  creature, 
flying  away  on  the  top  of  the  coach  !  Where  can 
he  be  going  to  wink  and  twinkle,  and  snap  his 
fingers,  till  he  makes  the  sides  ache  again  ?  " 


A  DISCOVERY  261 

"  I  wish,"  said  the  countess,  "  I  had  stopped 
him  ; "  and  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  "  Can  he  be 
on  his  way  to  Chastington  ?  "  She  then  relapsed 
into  her  melancholy  reflections,  thinking  it  pro- 
bable the  earl  was  entertaining  company,  and 
had  invited  Andrew  to  amuse  them.  "  In  what," 
thought  she  to  herself,  "is  this  singular  solitari- 
ness of  mine  to  end  ?  Can  it  be  possible  that 
some  one  has  poisoned  the  ear  of  Sandyford,  and 
that  he  has  converted  his  mother  to  believe  the 
suspicion  ?  That  vile  paragraph  he  seemed  to 
think  true.  Has  the  author  of  the  malignant 
invention  had  access  to  him  ?  Can  Sandyford 
condemn  me  without  a  hearing,  without  proof, 
without  investigation  ?  No  matter  :  I  will  droop 
my  head  in  secret ;  and  whatever  may  have  been 
my  faults  hitherto, — for  all  that  heartlessness  with 
which  I  have  been  so  often  taunted,  perhaps  justly, 
— I  may  yet  die  of  a  broken  heart.  I  feel  that 
I  can." 

While  these  painful  reflections  were  vibrating 
in  her  mind,  the  carriage  arrived  at  Elderbower. 
On  alighting,  she  walked  directly  to  the  dowager's 
parlour,  where  dinner  was  immediately  served  up. 
She  felt  herself  so  much  indisposed,  however, 
that,  instead  of  sitting  down  to  table,  she  retired 
to  her  own  room,  and  surrendered  herself  to 
the  most  desponding  reflections.  Bred  up  in 
the  preserves  of  dignified  opulence,  she  had  never 
before  seen  the  anguish  of  mental  distress  in  any 
undisguised  form,  nor  could  she  till  then  com- 


262  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

prehend  the  horrors  which  ruin  and  poverty  pre- 
sented to  a  mind  of  such  a  feverish  temperament  as 
that  of  Ferrers.  Her  life,  till  the  occurrences  arose 
of  which  we  have  been  treating,  had  been  one 
continued  series  of  the  most  ordinary  transactions 
that  befall  persons  of  her  rank  and  condition. 
She  had  passed  from  the  fondling  embraces  of  the 
nursery  to  the  measured  and  circumspect  regu- 
lations of  her  governess,  and  from  these  to  the 
incense  of  public  admiration,  under  the  auspices 
of  her  accomplished  husband.  She  had  never  till 
now  come  into  actual  contact  with  the  world, 
nor  once  been  obliged  to  draw  on  those  innate  re- 
sources which  she  possessed  within  herself  against 
its  malice  or  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune.  She  had 
heard  of  suffering  and  of  sorrow,  had  wept  over 
afflictions  described  in  novels,  and  sighed  over 
sorrows  deplored  in  poetry  ;  but  the  real  nature  of 
either  she  had  never  known,  and  what  she  felt 
for  the  distress  of  the  wretched  Ferrers  was  as 
new  in  sensation  as  it  was  disagreeable. 

While  she  was  thus  indulging  her  feelings, 
a  messenger  arrived  from  Burisland  Abbey,  her 
father's  seat  in  that  neighbourhood,  with  a  letter 
from  the  marquis,  in  which  his  lordship  expressed 
his  regret  that  she  should  have  exposed  herself 
to  the  mortification  of  being  abandoned  by  the 
Dowager  Lady  Sandyford  ;  hoped  she  was  in  good 
health  ;  informed  her  that  his  own  seat,  Bretons- 
bield  Castle,  was  in  readiness  to  receive  her ;  and 
advised  her  to  remove  thither  immediately,  and  to 


A  DISCOVERY  263 

•write  him  what  she  wished  done,  for  that  he  was 
obliged  to  return  to  London  on  public  business 
of  the  utmost  consequence,  the  second  reading 
of  the  County  Prisons  Bill  being  fixed  for  the  day 
following. 

The  mind  and  feelings  of  the  countess  were  so 
much  occupied  with  her  own  agitated  reflections 
that  the  style  and  contents  of  this  paternal  epistle 
did  not  at  first  rqake  any  particular  impression, 
and  she  read  it  as  Hamlet  did  the  words.  She 
saw  the  forms  of  the  alphabet,  the  outlines  of  the 
page ;  she  knew  the  handwriting,  and  the  sense 
floated  before  her ;  but  when  she  laid  the  paper 
on  the  table  the  whole  was  forgotten,  and  she  re- 
mained for  some  time  ruminating  and  abstracted, 
till  a  flood  of  tears  came  to  her  relief. 

When  the  emotion  of  weeping  had  subsided, 
her  eye  accidentally  fell  on  her  father's  letter, 
and  she  immediately  took  it  up,  and  read  it  again. 
The  coldness  of  the  language  smote  her  heart, 
and  she  felt  as  if  the  barb  of  an  icy  arrow  had 
penetrated  her  bosom  on  reading  the  expression, 
"abandoned  by  the  dowager." 

She  rang  the  bell  with  an  eager  hand,  and 
ordered  the  carriage  to  be  instantly  ready  for  the 
Abbey.  She  drove  thither  in  a  state  little  short 
of  distraction ;  but,  on  arriving  at  the  gate,  was 
informed  that  the  marquis  had  three  hours  before 
set  off  for  London.  She  had  still  his  letter  in 
her  hand,  and  her  first  thought  was  to  proceed 
immediately  to  Chastington  ;  but,  changing  her 


264  SIR  ANDREW  WYL1E 

determination,  she  unfortunately  went  on  through 
the  park  to  the  Abbey,  where  she  alighted,  and 
requested  that  one  of  the  servants  might  im- 
mediately prepare  to  go  to  the  Hall  for  her,  on 
business  of  the  utmost  consequence.  Having 
given  these  orders,  she  wrote  a  note  to  the 
dowager,  enclosing  the  marquis's  letter,  and  simply 
requesting  an  explanation  of  its  contents. 

The  groom  was  in  readiness  with  his  horse  at 
the  door  almost  as  soon  as  this  brief  note  was 
sealed,  and  he  instantly  set  off.  He  reached  the 
Hall  while  the  dowager  was  dressing  for  dinner, 
after  her  return  from  the  excursion  with  the 
doctor ;  and  the  note  was  delivered  to  her  in  her 
own  room.  She  read  it  hastily,  and  that  of  the 
marquis  also,  and  immediately  folding  them  up,  in 
the  agitation  of  the  moment,  and  with  a  trembling 
hand,  she  wrote  two  lines,  simply  saying  that 
the  occasion  of  Lady  Sandyford's  visit  to  Castle 
Rooksborough,  and  her  clandestine  interview  with 
Mr  Ferrers  in  the  garden  there,  would  sufficiently 
explain  the  reason  of  her  abandonment. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

Outside  Travelling. 

JN  EAR  the  great  gate  that  led  to  Chastington 
Hall  stood  a  small  public-house,  the  Sandyford 
Arms.  It  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
village,  and  had  been  established  chiefly  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  servants  of  visitors,  and  of 
the  labourers  employed  in  the  grounds.  At  this 
house  the  London  coaches  were  in  the  practice 
of  stopping  to  deliver  letters  or  parcels,  as  the 
case  happened  to  be  ;  but,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
passengers,  to  enable  the  drivers  to  regale  them- 
selves in  the  morning  with  a  glass  of  rum  and 
milk,  and  in  the  evening  with  a  draught  of  ale. 
Here  our  hero,  in  due  time,  after  passing  the 
countess,  was  set  down  from  the  top  of  a  coach 
which  left  London  the  preceding  day,  but  so 
covered  with  dust  that  a  fellow-passenger  of  the 
sister  isle  declared  that  if  he  was  a  potato  he 
might  grow  without  any  other  planting. 

Andrew,  on  alighting,  procured  materials  for 
washing,  and  changed  liis  dress ;  and  as  Mrs 
Tapper,  the  landlady,  was  an  agreeable,  talkative 
matron,  he  bespoke  a  bed, — conditionally,  how- 


266  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

ever.  "  I  would  like  vera  weel,  mistress,  to  bide 
wi'  you,"  said  he,  "  and  maybe  I  may  do  sae,  so 
ye'll  hae  the  considerateness  to  keep  a  bed,  at 
least  till  I  come  back  from  the  Hall  ;  but  if  I 
shouldna  happen  to  come  back  before  twelve 
o'clock  at  night  or  sae,  ye  needna  expec  me." 

The  truth  was  that  he  counted  on  being  invited 
to  take  up  his  abode  at  the  Hall,  but  in  case 
of  disappointment  took  this  method  of  having 
another  string  to  his  bow. 

When  he  had  equipped  himself  in  the  wonted 
style  in  which  he  was  in  the  practice  of  visiting 
at  Sandyford  House  in  London,  he  proceeded  up 
the  grand  avenue  to  the  portal  of  the  mansion. 
But  as  he  approached  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
the  spacious  and  richly  adorned  front,  with  the 
numerous  gilded  spires,  pinnacles,  and  domes, 
dilated  in  his  view,  his  wonted  confidence  began 
to  fail,  and  he  experienced  a  feeling  of  diffi- 
dence that  had  never  to  an  equal  degree  affected 
him  before.  He  wondered  what  could  be  the 
matter  with  himself,  considering  how  intimately 
acquainted  he  was  with  the  earl.  In  a  word,  he 
felt  as  abashed  and  out  of  sorts  as  a  young  noble- 
man does  in  going  to  court  for  the  first  time, 
although  assured  of  a  gracious  reception,  both 
from  his  personal  knowledge  of  the  monarch  and 
acquaintance  Avith  the  principal  attendants. 

When  he  reached  the  portal,  the  gate  was 
open  and  the  porter  was  absent,  so  that  lie 
entered  in  quest  of  a  door  to  knock  at  or  a  bell 


OUTSIDE  TRAVELLING  267 

to  ring ;  but  before  he  had  advanced  many  paces, 
the  porter  came  to  him,  (an  old  corpulent  and 
somewhat  testy  as  well  as  proud  personage),  and 
gruffly  inquired  what  he  wanted. 

"  I  am  come  frae  London,"  replied  Andrew,  still 
under  the  repressive  influence  of  the  genius  of  that 
magnificent  mansion,  "on  business  wi'  my  lord." 

Peter  Baton,  the  porter,  surveyed  him  from 
head  to  foot,  and  thought  there  was  not  much 
of  the  arrogance  of  a  gentleman  in  his  look  or 
garb ;  and  his  face  had  the  tinge  of  a  rustic  ex- 
posure to  the  weather — the  effect  of  his  outside 
travelling. 

"  My  lord  is  out,  young  man,  a-riding,  and  it 
will  be  some  time  before  he  returns ;  you  may 
therefore  step  into  the  servants'  hall  and  rest 
yourself.  There  is  plenty  of  good  ale  for  all 
strangers." 

This  was  said  in  a  more  civil  tone  by  Baton, 
in  consequence  of  the  humility  of  Andrew's  ap- 
pearance. 

Our  hero,  however,  did  not  accept  of  the 
nospitable  recommendation,  but  replied,  "I'm 
vera  much  obliged  to  you  ;  but  I'll  just  dauiier 
about  in  the  policy  till  the  earl  comes  in,  as  my 
concern's  \vi'  himsel'." 

At  this  crisis,  however,  his  lordship  rode  into 
the  court,  and  instantly  recognised  him  with  all 
his  usual  jocularity,  which  sent  honest  Peter 
Baton  to  his  post  grumbling,  wondering  who  the 
devil  that  queer  chap  could  be,  and  concluding 


268  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

in  his  own  mind  that  he  must  be  some  apprentice 
to  one  of  the  Jew  money-lenders  for  whom  the 
woods  were  so  rapidly  thinning. 

The  moment  that  Andrew  was  in  the  presence 
of  the  master,  his  habitual  ease  returned ;  and, 
in  going  into  the  library  with  the  earl,  he  gave 
his  lordship  such  a  description  of  his  adventures 
in  the  journey  from  town  as  effectually  cleared,  as 
the  earl  himself  expressed  it,  the  duckweed  from 
his  stagnant  thoughts. 

"  If  your  lordship,"  said  Andrew,  "  has  never 
travelled  on  the  tap  o'  a  coach  by  night,  I  wouldna 
advise  you  to  try't ;  for  although  I  cannily  placed 
myself  between  an  Irishman  and  an  auld  wife,  in 
the  hope  that  the  tane  would  keep  me  awake  by 
his  clavers,  and  the  other  by  her  clatter,  and  so 
save  me  frae  couping  aff,1  a'  was  naething,  even  wi' 
my  own  terrors  free  gratis,  to  haud  me  frae  nod- 
ding as  if  my  head  had  been  an  ill-sew't-on  button  ; 
and  the  warst  o'  a'  was,  the  deevil  o'  an  Irishman, 
though  he  was  sitting  on  the  veiy  lip  o'  the  roof, 
he  had  nae  mercy,  but  fell  asleep  as  sound  as  a 
tap  the  moment  his  tongue  lay,  and  was  every  noo 
and  then  getting  up  wi'  a  great  Paught 2  of  his 
arms,  like  a  goose  wi'  its  wings  jumping  up  a 
stair,  alarming  us  a'  as  if  he  was  in  the  act  o' 
tumbling  down  aneath  the  wheels.  And  then 
the  carlin,  she  grippit  wi'  me  like  grim  death  at 
every  joggle  the  coach  gied  ;  so  that  if,  by  ony 
mischance,  she  had  been  shooggled  aff,  whar 
1  Coupiivj  aff.  Tumbling  off.  Flaujht.  Spread. 


OUTSIDE  TRAVELLING  269 

would  I  hue  been  then  ?  It's  really,  ray  lord,  an 
awfu'  thing  to  travel  by  night  on  the  tap  o'  a 
coach." 

"  True,  Wylie ;  but  why  did  not  ye  take  the 
inside  ?  "  said  the  earl. 

Andrew  did  not  choose  to  confess  the  real 
saving  cause,  considering  the  liberal  provision  his 
lordship  had  procured  for  him  ;  but,  evading  the 
question,  replied,  "It's  no  every  ane,  my  lord, 
that  can  thole  the  inside  o'  a  coach,  especially 
the  fore-seat  that  draws  backward." 

"  Ay  ;  but  what  prevented  you  from  taking  the 
other?"  cried  his  lordship,  who  correctly  guessed 
the  true  reason  of  the  preference  for  the  outside. 

"  Ye  may  weel  say  that,  my  lord  ;  but  I 
thought  the  outside  would  hae  been  vera  plea- 
sant ;  and,  indeed,  naething  could  be  mair  sae,  as 
we  came  trindling  along  in  the  dewy  eye  o'  the 
morning,  smelling  the  caller  air  frae  the  blithe- 
some trees  and  hedges,  a'  buskit  in  their  new 
deeding,  like  lads  and  lasses  dressed  for  a  bridal." 

"  Poetical,  by  all  that's  marvellous  !  "  exclaimed 
the  earl  at  this  sally  ;  "  there  is  no  exhausting 
the  incomprehensible  treasury  of  thy  accomplish- 
ments. Sidney  and  Cricllton  were  as  the  million 
compared  to  thee." 

Andrew  assumed  an  extremely  well  -  feigned 
seriousness,  and  replied,  "  I  ken  your  lordship's 
joking  way  ;  but  whatever  may  happen,  I  trust 
and  hope  I'll  ne'er  be  ony  sic  thing.  Poeticals, 
my  lord,  are  like  heather  flourishes — a  profitless 


270  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

bloom,  bred  in  the  barren  misery  o'  rocks  and 
moorlan's.  Na,  na,  my  lord,  I'm  like  the  piper's 
cow  :  gie  me  a  pickle  pea-strae,  and  sell  you? 
wind  for  siller.  That's  the  precept  I  preach ; 
and  I  wadna,  my  lord,  after  my  journey,  be  the 
waur  o'  a  bit  fodder  just  noo." 

Lord  Sandyford  was  not  altogether  deceived 
by  this  whimsical  speech ;  but  he  rang  the  bell, 
and  ordered  in  some  refreshment.  "  My  mother," 
said  he,  "  is  with  me  at  present,  and  we  must 
wait  dinner  for  her.  By  the  way,  as  she's  one  of 
the  old  school,  you  must  be  a  little  on  your  p's 
and  q's." 

"  Unless,"  replied  Andrew,  "  she's  greatly  out 
o'  the  common,  I  dare  say  I'll  be  able  to  put  up 
\vi'  her." 

"  That  I  don't  doubt ;  but  perhaps  she  may  not 
be  disposed  to  put  up  with  you.  Ladies  of  a  cer- 
tain age,  you  know,  will  have  their  own  way." 

"  Ay,  my  lord,  leddies  o'  a'  ages  would  fain  hae 
their  ain  way,  an'  we  would  let  them.  Howsever, 
I  dare  say,  the  auld  countess  is  nae  sic  a  camstrarie 
commoditie  as  maybe  ye  think.  If  I  ance  get 
her  to  laugh  wi'  me,  I'll  maybe  gar  her  do  mair— 
for  the  young  leddy,  that  was  aye  as  mini  as  a 
May  pudclock  to  a'  the  lave  o'  mankind,  made  me, 
ye  ken,  just  a  pet." 

The  earl's  countenance  changed ;  and  rising 
irom  the  sofa,  into  which  he  had  carelessly  thrown 
himself,  walked  several  times  in  silence  across  the 
room.  Our  hero  observed  his  emotion,  and  sen- 


OUTSIDE  TRAVELLING  271 

sible  of  having  gone  too  far  to  retreat,  added, 
"  Gratitude,  my  lord,  has  tied  up  my  fortune  wi' 
your  favour,  and  you  maun  allow  me  to  speak 
o'  her  leddyship  as  I  feel.  She's  a  woman  o'  a 
powerfu'  capacity,  but  needs  cooking." 

His  lordship  stopped,  and,  knitting  his  brows, 
looked  sternly  on  Andrew. 

"  I'm  no  gi'en  to  gambling,  my  lord ;  but  I 
would,"  cried  our  hero,  "wager  a  boddle  to  a 
bawbee  that,  although  your  lordship's  aye  in  the 
right,  my  leddy's  no  far  wrung." 

This  upset  the  earl's  austerity  completely,  and, 
turning  on  his  heel,  he  laughingly  said,  "  Then 
you  think  me,  Wylie,  somewhat  of  a  pertinacious 
character — too  strict  with  my  wife." 

"  Just  so,  my  lord — I  think  ye  were  overly 
strict  in  taking  your  ain  way,  without  reflecting 
how  it  might  afFec'  her.  Nae  doubt  your  lord- 
ship was  in  the  right — ye  were  privileged  to  do 
so.  But  what  I  would  uphold  on  behalf  of  the 
absent  leddy,  poor  woman,  is,  that  she  was  nae  far 
wrong,  since  ye  did  sae,  to  tak  a  wee  jookie  her 
ain  gait  too.  My  lord,  you  and  her  maun  gree." 

"  Impossible,  impossible,  Wylie  !  "  exclaimed 
the  earl,  not  displeased  at  the  advocacy  which 
our  hero  seemed  disposed  to  plead  in  behalf  ot 
the  countess.  And  lie  then  explained  to  him  the 
mystery  of  the  child,  and  that  his  object  in  send- 
ing for  him  was  that  he  might  assist  in  ascertain- 
ing the  facts  and  circumstances.  Andrew  listened 
with  no  inconsiderable  degree  of  amazement.  Fie, 


272  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

however,  allowed  no  remark  to  escape,  but 
thought  that  there  might  be  some  mistake  in 
the  statement,  or  some  error  in  the  conception. 

When  his  loi-dship  concluded — for  he  spoke 
with  agitation,  and  with  much  energy  of  feeling 
— our  hero  said,  with  unaffected  sincerity,  "  My 
best  services  are  at  the  command  of  your  lord- 
ship. It  is  my  duty  to  serve  you — it  is  my 
interest,  my  lord  ;  and  that  is  the  plainest  way  I 
can  tak  to  assure  your  lordship  that  I'll  do  the 
part  of  an  honest  man  and  a  true  servant.  But, 
my  lord,  I'll  neither  hae  colleague  nor  portioner. 
Your  lordship's  leddy-mother,  and  the  doctor,  who 
have  gone  to  the  inns,  may  hook  a  baukie-bird  in 
the  air,  or  a  yerd  taid  l  on  the  brae,  and  think  they 
hae  catched  a  fish,  and  they  may  catch  a  right 
fish  too.  Ye'll  let  me,  however,  my  lord,  cast  my 
ain  tackle  in  the  water,  laying  naething  to  them 
till  we  compare  the  upshot." 

Before  the  earl  could  reply,  the  carriage,  with 
the  doctor  and  the  dowager,  was  heard  in  the 
court ;  and  in  little  more  than  a  minute  after, 
her  ladyship,  leaning  on  his  arm,  agitated  and 
depressed,  entered  the  library. 

Andrew  perceived  that  they  had  caught,  as  he 
anticipated,  either  a  baukie-bird  or  a  yerd  taid, 
and  brought  it  home  for  a  fish ;  but  he  said 
nothing.  The  dowager,  on  observing  a  stranger 
in  the  room,  immediately  retired,  followed  by  the 
earl.  The  moment  they  were  gone,  and  the  door 
1  A  bat  or  an  earthed,  or  buried,  toad. 


OUTSIDE  TRAVELLING  273 

shut,  our  hero  sidled  up  to  the  little,  prim  physician, 
and,  without  preface,  said  at  once  to  him,  "  Noo, 
sir,  what  hae  ye  got  by  this  gowk's  errand  ?  " 

Dr  Trefoil  started  aghast,  and  bending  forward, 
looked  as  if  he  examined  some  reptile  of  which  he 
was  afraid.  He  then  resumed  his  wonted  erect 
and  precise  air,  saying,  "  May  I  presume  to  ask 
whom  I  have  the  honour  to  address,  and  to  what 
you  allude  ?  " 

Andrew,  whose  quick  insight  of  character  was 
instinctive,  saw  the  self-sufficiency  of  the  doctor, 
and  determined  to  take  the  upper  hand  of  him, 
replied,  "  Ye're  speaking  to  Andrew  Wylie,  sir. 
I  dinna  think  there's  mickle  honour  in't ;  and 
what  I  was  asking  anent  is  the  affair  o'  my  lord 
and  my  leddy,  that  ye  hae  been  thrashing  the 
water  and  raising  bells  about." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir,"  said  the  doctor, 
somewhat  confounded.  "  But  if  you  mean  what 
has  been  the  result  of  my  journey  with  the 
countess-dowager  to  Castle  Rooksborough,  I  re- 
gret to  say  that  it  has  been  attended  with  most 
unhappy  effects.  Her  ladyship  and  I  happened 
to  stroll  into  the  garden,  where  we  discovered  the 
unfortunate  Lady  Augusta  Spangle — for  she  can 
no  longer  now  be  called  the  Countess  of  Sandy- 
ford " 

"  Hoot,  toot,  toot,  doctor  ;  no  sae  fast,  no  sae 
fast,"  interrupted  Andrew.  "What  did  ye  see?" 

"  We  saw  her  and  Mr  Ferrers  in  a  most  un- 
pleasant situation." 

VOL.  i.  s 


274  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  Noo,  Dr  Trefoil,"  replied  Andrew,  "  but  that 
I  ken  ye're  mista'en,  I  could  wager,  as  sure  as 
onything,  that  there's  a  wee  spicerie  of  I'll  no 
say  what  in  this.  Oh,  doctor  !  it  would  hae  been 
mair  to  the  purpose  had  ye  been  kirning  drogs 
with  the  pistle  and  mortar  in  your  ain  shop  than 
gallanting  frae  Dan  to  Beersheba  with  an  auld 
prickmaleerie  l  dowager,  to  pick  holes  in  the  coats 
o'  your  neighbours." 

"Sir,  your  language  and  insinuations  are  in- 
sulting," cried  the  doctor,  reddening  into  valour. 

"  Dr  Trefoil,  I'll  tell  you  something  that  ye'll 
maybe  no  be  ill  pleased  to  learn.  I'm  no  a  game- 
cock. The  deadliest  weapon  that  I  ever  handle 
is  a  doctor's  bottle ;  so  that  your  whuffing  and 
bouncing  are  baith  ill-war't  on  me.  Keep  your 
temper,  doctor ;  keep  your  temper,  or  ye  may 
lose  your  appetite  for  my  lord's  dinner.  Hows- 
ever,  I  forgie  you  this  bit  spunk  2  of  your  bravery, 
and  I  doubt  not  but  we  shall  by-and-by  be 
couthy  frien's,  though  we  will  differ  on  twa  points 
— that's  certain.  I'll  ne'er  allow  that  physic 
hasna  an  abominable  taste ;  and  some  better 
evidence  than  your  seven  senses,  my  man,  maun 
be  forthcoming  before  I  credit  this  story  o'  the 
twa  ghosts  that  you  and  the  poor,  feckless  auld 
leddy  saw  at  Castle  Rooksborough." 

"  Ghosts  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  utterly  amazed  at 
the  self-possession  of  his  companion. 

"Ay,  ghosts,  doctor;  and  I'm  thinking  they 
1  Prickmaleerie.  Precise.  2  Spunk.  Spark. 


OUTSIDE  TRAVELLING  275 

hae  been  twa  o'  your  ain  patients,  they  hae  gi'en 
you  sic  a  dreadfu'  fear.  What  did  they  say  to 
you,  and  what  said  ye  to  them  ?  " 

"  Sir,  you  very  much  astonish  me — exceedingly. 
I  know  not  that  I  ever  met  with  anything  like 
this.  Sir,  the  countess-dowager  knew  Lady  Sandy- 
ford  at  the  first  sight,  and  I  could  be  in  no  mis- 
take with  respect  to  Mr  Ferrers,  whom  I  have 
known  from  his  childhood." 

"  A'  that  may  be  true,  Dr  Trefoil.  I'll  no 
dispute  that  the  countess-dowager  was  able  to 
ken  her  gude-dochter,  and  that  ye  can  decipher 
the  difference  between  Mr  Ferrers  and  a  bramble- 
bush.  But,  doctor,  what  did  ye  see  ?  That's  the 
point :  a  gentleman  and  a  leddy  in  a  garden, 
picking  lilies  for  a  poesy.  Oh,  doctor,  doctor  ! 
ye  maun  be  an  ill-deedy  body  yoursel',  or  ye 
wouldna  think  sae  ill  o'  others.  What,  1100,  was 
you  and  the  auld  leddy  after  when  ye  were  link- 
ing and  slinking  sae  cagily l  wi'  ane  anither  in 
holes  and  corners  ? — 

'  Davy  chas't  me  through  the  pease, 
And  in  ainang  the  cherry-trees.' 

Ah,  doctor,  doctor,  ye  cleevil !  Vow  !  but  ye're  a 
Dainty  Davy." 

The  manner  in  which  this  was  said  and  sung 

overpowered  the  doctor,  and,  in  spite  of  himself, 

he  was  compelled  to  laugh.      In  the  same  moment 

the  bell  of  the  portal  summoned  them  to  dinner. 

1  Caijily.     Sportively. 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

Conversation, 

ANDREW  and  the  doctor,  on  reaching  the 
dining-room,  found  the  earl  and  his  mother 
already  there.  The  dowager  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised at  the  uncouth  appearance  of  Andrew, 
and  his  lordship  was  evidently  amused  at  the 
look  with  which  she  inspected  him.  At  first,  and 
for  some  time,  the  conversation  was  vague  and 
general ;  but  the  earl  saw  that  Andrew  was 
studiously  cultivating  the  good  graces  of  the  old 
lady,  and  that,  although  every  now  and  then  she 
looked  at  him  statelily  and  askance,  occasionally 
both  his  manners  and  language  deranged  the 
settled  seriousness  of  her  features  into  a  smile. 

When  the  dessert  was  placed  011  the  table,  and 
the  servants  had  retired,  our  hero  opened  his  bat- 
tery by  saying  to  the  earl,  "What  do  you  think 
your  leddy-mother  here,  and  my  new  friend  the 
dainty  doctor  there,  hae  been  about,  my  lord  ?  " 

Her  ladyship  was  in  the  act  of  holding  her 
glass  while  the  doctor  poured  a  little  -wine  into 
it ;  but  at  the  nonchalance  of  this  address  she 
withdrew  her  hand,  and  erected  herself  into  the 


CONVERSATION  277 

stateliest  pitch  of  dignity ;  and  the  physician, 
setting  down  the  decanter,  his  task  unperformed, 
looked  across  the  table  in  unspeakable  amaze- 
ment. His  lordship  smiled,  and  replied,  "Why, 
Wylie,  how  should  I  know  ?  I  dare  say  some- 
thing they  don't  like  to  hear  of,  if  I  may  judge 
by  their  looks." 

"  Weel,  I'll  tell  you,"  resumed  Andrew.  "  Now, 
my  leddy.,  ye  maun* just  compose  yoursel' ;  for  it's 
vera  proper  his  lordship  should  hear  how  you  and 
the  doctor  were  playing  at  Damon  and  Phillis 
among  the  groves  and  bowers.  They  think,  my 
lord,  that  they  saw  your  leddy  gallanting  wi'  a 
gentleman." 

"  Monster  !  "  exclaimed  the  dowager,  flaming 
with  indignation. 

The  doctor  was  panic-struck. 

"  Whisht,  whisht,  my  leddy,"  cried  Andrew, 
slyly  ;  "  if  you  will  be  poking  at  a  business  of  this 
kind,  ye  maun  just  abide  the  consequences.  But 
I  would  ask  what  greater  harm  could  there  be  in 
the  countess  walking  in  a  garden  with  a  well-bred 
gentleman  than  in  your  leddyship  doing  the  same 
with  that  bit  body  o'  a  doctor  ?  " 

The  earl  perceiving  the  turn  that  the  conver 
sation  was  taking,  and  knowing  from  Andrew's 
manner  that  the  truth  would  be  served  up  with- 
out any  disguise,  was  uneasy  and  disconcerted, 
and  almost  wished  that  the  topic  was  changed. 
But  anxious  at  the  same  time  to  learn  the  whole 
circumstances,  and  curious  to  know  the  point  of 


278  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

light  in  which  it  struck  our  hero,  he  remained, 
as  it  were,  seemingly  absent  and  inattentive, 
making  a  Niobe's  face  of  an  orange,  and  squeez- 
ing it,  "all  tears,"  into  his  glass. 

Andrew  continued— 

"  I  have  always  heard,  Leddy  Sandyford,  that 
ye  were  a  wise  and  a  sensible  woman ;  but  I 
would  ask  you  a  question  : — Granted  noo  that  ye 
did  see  a  decent  woman  like  the  countess — but 
like's  an  ill  mark — would  it  no  hae  been  mair  to 
the  purpose  to  hae  made  sure,  in  the  first  place, 
that  it  was  really  her  ?  and  in  the  second,  to  have 
inquired  at  herself  on  the  spot  what  she  was 
doing  there  ?  Xa,  my  leddy,  this  is  a  serious 
concern,  and  the  truth  must  be  borne  wi'.  To 
come  away  without  searching  it  to  the  bottom 
wasna  according  to  your  wonted  discretion  ;  and 
if  ye  hadna  been  inoculated  wi'  a  bad  opinion 
of  your  good-dochter  beforehand,  ye  wouldna  hae 
put  sic  an  ill  colour  on  what  may  have  been  in 
itself  a  very  comely  action." 

The  doctor  by  this  time  had  in  some  degree 
recovered  himself,  and  the  freedom  with  which 
Andrew  spoke  having  an  infectious  influence  on 
him,  said,  "  But,  sir,  you  forget  that  there  is  a 
child  in  the  case." 

The  dowager,  however,  who  had  sat  some 
time  in  a  state  of  consternation,  interrupted  the 
conversation,  exclaiming,  "  Lord  Sandyford,  how 
can  you  permit  this  at  your  table,  and  in  my 
presence  ?  " 


CONVERSATION  279 

"Why,"  replied  the  earl,  "I'm  afraid  there  is 
something  like  reason  in  what  Wylie  says  :  he  is 
a  being  of  a  strange  element,  and  your  ladvship 
must  endure  to  hear  him  out,  or  you  will  perhaps 
do  both  his  wit  and  his  wisdom  injustice." 

Andrew  discovered  that  he  had  gone  too  far 
with  the  circumspect  dowager.  He  had  treated 
her  with  a  sort  of  freedom  that  could  only  have 
been  used  with  ^  impunity  to  the  whist -table 
tabbies  of  London ;  those  whom  he  occasionally 
met  with,  and,  as  he  said,  touzled  their  decorum. 
But  his  natural  shrewd  perception  of  character 
soon  enabled  him  to  correct  the  error,  and  to 
adapt  his  conversation  much  more  to  the  dowa- 
ger's formal  notions  of  etiquette  and  delicacy. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  my  leddy,"  said  he  ; 
"  from  the  first  to  the  last  there  has  been  a  great 
misunderstanding  in  the  whole  business  between 
my  lord  and  the  countess  ;  I  could  see  that  long 
ago,  though  I  hae  but  twa  een,  and  jiae  better 
anes  than  my  neighbours.  They  have  wanted 
a  sincere  friend  between  them, — the  like  o'  your 
leddyship,  for  example ;  and  noo  that  they're 
hither  and  yon  frae  ane  anither,  it  behoves  a' 
that  wish  them  weel,  and  few  hae  mair  cause 
to  do  sae  than  mysel',  who  has  been  made,  as 
it  were,  by  my  lord,  to  take  tent  that  a  breach 
is  no  opened  that  canna  be  biggit  up.1  Joking 
aside — I  think  your  leddyship  and  the  doctor 
hae  been  a  wee  hasty  in  your  conclusions.  I'll 
1  Take  tent  .  .  .  liijyit  up.  Beware  .  .  .  built  up. 


280  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

no  say  that  the  countess  is  an  innocent  woman, 
but  let  us  hae  some  proof  o'  her  guilt  before  we 
condemn.  As  to  the  bairn,  that's  a  living  witness 
of  a  fact  somewhere — I  alloo  that.  But,  my 
leddy,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  :  that  is,  if  ye 
approve  it,  for  I  would  submit  to  your  better 
judgment.  I'll  gang  warily  and  cannily  oner  to 
Castle  Rooksborough  mysel',  and  muddle  l  about 
the  root  o'  this  affair  till  I  get  at  it.  I  think 
that  I  may  be  able  to  do  this  as  weel  as  a  person 
o'  mair  consideration.  Naebody  in  this  country- 
side kens  me  ;  I'll  be  scoggit2  wi'  my  ain  hamely 
manner ;  and  if  I  can  serve  my  lord,  I'm  bound 
by  gratitude  to  do  sae." 

After  some  further  conversation  this  project 
was  approved  of,  and  the  dowager  began  to  en- 
tertain a  more  condescending  disposition  towards 
our  hero.  The  carriage  was  ordered  to  be  ready 
to  convey  him  early  next  morning  to  the  Rose 
and  Crown.  But,  said  he,  "No  just  sae  far:  I 
maim  gang  there  on  shanks-naigy  ;  I'll  only  tak 
it  till  within  a  mile  or  twa  o'  the  place  ;  and 
when  I  hae  got  my  turn  done,  I'll  either  come 
slipping  back,  or  the  servan's  can,  at  their  leisure, 
bring  the  carriage  on  to  the  inn,  whar  I'll  get 
in  as  an  utter  stranger,  taken  up  by  them,  as  it 
were,  for  a  job  to  themselves." 

The  aristocracy  of  the  dowager  did  not  entirely 
relish  this  method  of  setting  on  foot  an  inquiry 
into  the  conduct  of  a  Countess  of  Sandyford. 

1  Muddle.     Secretly  work.  2  Scogyit.     Sheltered. 


CONVERSATION  28 1 

But  Andrew  combated  her  prejudices  so  adroitly, 
and  in  so  peculiar  a  mariner,  that  she  was  forced 
to  acquiesce. 

"It's  no  for  me,  certainly,"  said  he,  "to  enter 
into  a  controversy  with  your  leddyship  on  points 
o'  this  nature ;  but  ye  hae  lived  ouer  good  a  life 
to  ken  ony thing  about  the  jookerie-cookerie  l  o' 
crim-coning." 

The  dowager's  faee,  which  had  for  some  time 
worn  a  complacent  aspect,  became  again  troubled 
at  this  renewal  of  a  familiarity  so  little  in  har- 
mony with  her  habits  and  notions ;  and  having 
sat  her  due  lady's  portion  of  time  at  the  table,  she 
rose  and  left  the  room.  The  earl  also  soon  after 
retired,  leaving  the  doctor  and  Andrew  by  them- 
selves :  the  physician,  however,  was  so  effectually 
mastei-ed  by  the  irresistible  humour  of  his  com- 
panion that,  dreading  to  encounter  his  raillery, 
under  the  pretext  of  professional  engagements,  he 
rose  and  went  home  before  tea  was  announced. 

Our  hero,  being  thus  left  alone,  pondered  on 
the  circumstances  which  had  procured  to  him  the 
confidence  of  Lord  Sandyford,  and  the  promptings 
of  his  own  honest  persuasion  made  him  determine 
to  leave  no  effort  untried  to  restore  the  domes- 
tic happiness  of  his  patron.  In  frequenting  the 
parties  at  Sandyford  House,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  familiar  access  which  he  was  allowed  at 
all  times  both  to  the  earl  and  countess,  he  had 
noticed  the  cold  politeness  which  existed  between 
1  Joukcric-cookcric.  Trickery. 


282  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

them ;  but  he  formed  an  estimate  of  their  respec- 
tive dispositions  much  more  correct  than  that  of 
the  world  in  general.  He  discovered,,  through  the 
disguise  of  his  lordship's  habitual  ennui,  a  gnaw- 
ing anxiety,  and  justly  ascribed  his  dissipation  to 
the  irritation  of  his  embittered  reflections.  The 
equable  and  sustained  deportment  of  her  ladyship 
was  not,  however,  so  easily  penetrated ;  but  he 
saw  that  it  was  more  the  effect  of  practice  and 
caution  than  her  natural  disposition,  and  suspected 
that  she  possessed  an  inherent  energy  which  only 
required  commensurate  circumstances  to  call  into 
action.  She  was  evidently  a  woman  not  easily 
disturbed  by  the  little  occasional  incidents  which 
so  profoundly  affect  the  happiness  of  her  sex  ;  and 
her  feelings  having  no  particular  object  to  interest 
them,  neither  children  nor,  in  a  certain  sense, 
husband,  she  moved  along  the  stream  of  time 
like  a  stately  vessel  on  the  tide,  whose  superb 
appearance  is  all  that  attracts  the  attention  of 
the  spectator. 

Her  ladyship  was  certainly  to  blame  for  not 
endeavouring  to  recall  the  scattered  affections  of 
her  lord  ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  frame  an  apology  for 
her  negligence  in  this  respect.  But  how  many 
ladies  act  in  the  same  way,  and,  heedless  of 
the  unsettled  and  fluctuating  state  of  all  human 
attachments,  seem  to  consider,  when  they  are 
wedded,  that  it  is  no  longer  requisite  to  continue 
those  agreeable  humours  and  graces  which  first 
won  the  esteem  of  their  husbands.  The  triumph 


CONVERSATION  283 

of  woman  lies  not  in  the  admiration  of  her  lover, 
but  in  the  respect  of  her  husband ;  and  it  can 
only  be  gained  by  a  constant  cultivation  of  those 
qualities  which  she  knows  he  most  values.  But 
Lady  Sandyford,  like  many  of  her  sex,  had  been 
taught  to  entertain  other  notions.  She  did  not 
certainly  regulate  herself,  as  some  others  (fatally 
for  their  own  happiness)  often  do,  by  the  standard 
of  some  particular  individual,  whom  habit  or  duty 
may  have  taught  them  to  venerate — a  father,  a 
brother,  or  a  guardian —  ;  but  she  did  what  was 
equally  unfortunate  :  she  courted  public  admira- 
tion, and  it  was  with  deference  towards  it  that  all 
her  actions  and  motions  were  estranged  from  that 
sphere  of  duties  which  would  have  endeared  her 
to  the  sensitive  bosom  of  her  lord.  Our  hero, 
therefore,  in  contemplating  the  result  which  had 
flowed  from  her  apparent  indifference,  suspected 
that  she  felt  infinitely  more  under  the  separation 
than  the  earl  conceived. 

He  did  her  justice  in  another  point  also  :  he 
could  not  for  a  moment  allow  himself  to  think 
she  was  guilty  even  of  levity.  He  had  remarked 
her  pride,  and  his  intuitive  knowledge  of  human 
nature  convinced  him  that  pride  alone  will  often 
do  the  part  of  virtue.  In  a  word,  the  tenor  of 
his  cogitations  was  honourable  to  himself  and 
favourable  to  the  countess.  For,  not  assuming 
the  probability  of  guilt,  but  only  desirous  to  reach 
the  bottom  of  the  business,  he  was  able  to  take  a 
far  more  candid  view  of  the  different  presumptions 


284  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

against  her  than  if  he  had  been  actuated  by  any 
preconceived  opinion.  In  this  generous  frame  of 
mind,  he  embarked  with  a  determination  to  sift 
the  whole  matter  to  the  utmost,  and,  in  the  end, 
if  he  found  the  conduct  of  the  countess  what  he 
hoped  and  expected  it  would  prove,  he  resolved 
to  speak  to  her  freely  of  what  he  had  observed  in 
her  behaviour  towards  her  husband,  and  then  to 
bring  about  the  more  difficult  and  delicate  task 
of  a  cordial  reunion. 

When  the  mind  entertains  a  noble  purpose, 
it  never  fails  to  dignify  the  physiognomy  and 
external  appearance.  Andrew,  in  obeying  the 
summons  of  the  dowager  to  tea,  entered  the 
room  with  an  ease  of  carriage  which  struck  her, 
not  only  on  account  of  its  propriety,  but  also  by 
the  contrast  which  it  presented  to  his  naturally 
insignificant  air  and  homely  garb. 

Her  ladyship,  in  the  interval  after  quitting  the 
dining-room,  was  not,  upon  reflection,  much  satis- 
fied with  what  had  passed,  and  was  resolved  to 
be  both  cool  and  dignified,  in  order  to  prevent  a 
repetition  of  the  familiarity  which  had  so  ruffled 
her  notions  of  decorum  ;  but  the  generosity  which 
lighted  up  the  smooth  round  face  and  little 
twinkling  eyes  of  her  guest  produced  an  instan- 
taneous and  sympathetic  effect,  and,  instead  of 
the  austere  grandeur  which  she  had  determined 
to  practise,  she  invited  him  to  take  a  seat  on  the 
sofa  beside  her,  with  a  graciousness  of  manner 
that  could  not  have  been  excelled,  even  had  she 


He  wa>  surprised  to  find  them  seated  together. 


CONVERSATION  285 

known  the  intention  with  which  he  was  at  the 
moment  animated. 

When  the  earl,  who  soon  .after  entered  the 
room,  saw  them  in  this  situation,  his  favourable 
opinion  of  the  tact  and  address  of  Andrew 
was  considerably  increased.  He  knew  the  nice 
notions  of  his  mother,  and  her  profound  venera- 
tion for  the  etiquettes  of  polite  life,  and  had, 
from  the  first,  apprehended  a  rupture,  the  state 
of  her  mind  at  the  time  not  being  at  all  in  unison 
with  that  familiar  drollery  which  our  hero  could 
neither  disguise  nor  repress.  He  Avas,  therefore, 
in  no  small  degree  surprised  to  find  them  seated 
together,  and,  apparently,  on  those  terms  which 
he  had  never  imagined  it  was  practicable  for 
Andrew  to  attain  with  her  ladyship. 

During  tea  the  conversation  was  general  and 
lively :  no  allusion  was  made  to  what  had  consti- 
tuted the  chief  and  most  interesting  topic  after 
dinner ;  and  the  old  lady  was  several  times  con- 
strained to  laugh  heartily  at  Andrew's  ludicrous 
adventures  in  his  journey  from  London,  as  well 
as  at  some  of  his  queerest  stories,  of  which  he 
selected  those  most  calculated  to  please  her.  So 
that,  while  she  perceived  he  was  a  person  of  no 
refined  acquirements,  she  could  not  but  acknow- 
ledge in  her  own  mind  that  he  was  undoubtedly 
endowed  by  nature  with  singular  shrewdness,  and 
with  peculiar  talents  of  no  ordinary  kind.  It  was 
true  that  he  said  tilings  which  a  delicate  respect 
for  the  prejudices  and  notions  of  others  would 


286  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

have  restrained  a  man  of  more  gentlemanly  pre-. 
tensions  from  expressing ;  but  there  was  no  re- 
sisting the  strong  common-sense  of  his  remarks, 
nor  withstanding  the  good-humoured  merriment 
of  his  allusions.  She,  however,  now  and  then 
felt  uneasy  that  she  had  so  rashly  sent  back  the 
countess's  letter.  But,  like  all  others  who  do 
anything  of  which  they  afterwards  doubt  the 
propriety,  she  concealed  entirely  from  her  son, 
and  wished,  if  possible,  to  forget  herself,  that  she 
had  taken  so  decided  a  part. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

New  Lights. 

JL  FEAR,  my  lord,"  said  our  hero,  when  the 
dowager  had  left  the  room,  "that  I  have  spoken 
ouer  freely  on  this  misfortune  that  has  befallen 
your  lordship's  family ;  but  in  truth,  my  lord,  a 
sore  at  no  time  will  bear  handling.  If  I  had 
conversed  in  a  manner  that  might  have  been 
mair  fitting  to  the  occasion,  it  wouldna  hae 
mended  the  matter ;  so  I  rather  ran  the  risk  of 
the  consequences  with  your  leddy-mother  than 
be  slack  in  delivering  my  honest  opinion.  But 
setting  joking  aside,  my  lord,  this  story  of  hers 
and  the  doctor's  concerning  the  gentleman  ayont 
the  bush  is  really  something  vera  extraordinar." 

"Yes,  Wylie,"  replied  the  earl,  "it  fls  so;  but 
although  my  mother  makes  it  of  importance,  it  is 
none  to  me.  I  have  been  but  so-so  as  a  husband 
and,  by  my  conscience,  nothing  in  earth  will  ever 
induce  me  to  institute  any  proceedings  against 
Lady  Sandy  ford." 

"That's  a  vrra  contrite  sentiment  of  your 
lordship,  and  comes,  or  I'm  mista'en,  from  the 
bottom  of  the  heart ;  but  surely,  my  lord,  ye 

2S7 


288  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

wouldna  like  your  estates,  and  the  honours  of  all 
your  lordship's  ancient  and  famous  progenitors,  to 
go  to  the  base  blood  of  a  stranger." 

"I  thought,  Wylie,"  said  the  earl  coldly,  "that 
you  had  been  more  the  friend  of  Lady  Sandy- 
ford.  I  am  sure  that  she  always  treated  you 
with  kindness." 

"With  the  height  of  discretion,  I  maun  aye 
allow  that,"  replied  our  hero;  "and  far  be  it 
from  my  thoughts  or  intent  to  advise  any  harm 
either  to  the  name  or  dignity  of  the  countess, 
whom  I  canna  believe  to  have  been  playing  ony 
plasket.1  A'  that  I  meant  your  lordship  to  under- 
stand was  :  supposing,  just  by  way  of  premises  to 
confer  upon,  that  the  countess  had  done  the  deed, 
and  was  as  black  as  your  leddy-mother  and  her 
gallant  the  doctor  fear,  how  would  your  lordship 
propose  that  she  should  be  treated  ?  " 

"As  the  daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Avon- 
side." 

"  Her  father  is  a  proud  man,  my  lord,"  resumed 
Andrew,  "  and  will  take  care  of  that.  But  sup- 
pose she  is  the  mother  of  the  bairn, — for  to  this 
length  the  suspicion,  as  I  guess,  runs, — what  would 
be  your  lordship's  pleasure  then  ?  " 

The  earl  made  no  answer.  He  sat  for  some 
time  silent,  and  then  he  rose  and  walked  thrice 
across  the  room.  He  was  evidently  grieved  and 
perplexed.  Wylie  sat  watching  him  with  interest 
and  sympathy.  The  struggle  lasted  about  five 
1  flasket.  Evil  trick. 


NEW  LIGHTS  289 

minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  his  lordship  resumed 
his  chair,  and  said  : 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  may  do,  nor  can  I 
imagine  what  I  ought  to  do.  But  Lady  Sandy- 
ford,  whatever  may  have  been  her  fault,  has 
pride  enough  to  prevent  her  from  imposing  a 
spurious  heir  on  my  earldom.  The  concealment 
with  which  she  has  covered  the  birth,  if  she  is  a 
mother,  assures  me  ihat  the  attempt  will  never  be 
made  ;  so  that,  even  in  a  worldly  point  of  view, 
I  ought  to  make  no  stir  in  this  business."  And 
he  sighed  deeply,  adding,  "  It  is  needless  to  dis- 
guise to  you  any  longer  that  I  am  more  distressed 
than  I  seem." 

"  Really,  my  lord,  your  case  is  a  very  kittle 1 
ane,"  replied  our  hero,  deeply  affected  ;  "  but,  no 
to  dwell  on  the  dark  side  o't,  let  us  suppose,  noo, 
that  after  all  this  hobleshow  and  clash  2  it  should 
turn  out  that  the  countess  is  an  innocent  and  an 
injured  woman  ?  " 

"  You  are  destined  to  exalt  or  to  sink  me  for 
ever  in  my  own  esteem  !  "  exclaimed  the  earl ; 
"and  you  have  put  to  me  a  question  that  I 
would,  but  durst  not,  ask  myself.  She  left  my 
house  voluntarily,  by  the  advice  of  her  father." 

His  lordship  paused,  and  looked  as  if  he  ex- 
pected that  Andrew  would  say  something ;  but 
he  remained  silent. 

The  earl  then  said  abruptly,  "  What  do  you 
think  I  ought  to  do  ?  I  cannot  ask  her  back — 

1  Kittle.     Delicate.  2  Clash.     Gossip, 

VOL.   I.  T 


290  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

she  will  be  happier  apart  from  me  ;  and  since  we 
are  in  the  tongues  of  the  world,  it  is  no  longer 
expedient  for  us  to  assume  counterfeit  virtues." 

"  Truly,  what  your  lordship  says  is  no  without 
a  glimmer  of  common-sense ;  but,  in  the  way  of 
a  conjecture,  let  us  take  another  supposition. 
What  would  your  lordship  do  if  my  leddy,  of  her 
own  free  grace,  was  to  confess  a  fault  for  running 
awa  wi'  her  father,  and  beg  to  be  received  home 
again  ?  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  exclaimed  the  earl  with  energy. 
"  Impossible !  Her  pride  could  never  stoop  to 
such  humiliation." 

"  I  can  see  there  is  difficulty  in  the  way. 
Howsoever,  greater  mountains  have  been  removed 
without  miracles.  And  your  lordship  hasna  said 
what  you  would  do,  supposing  my  suppose  were 
to  come  to  pass." 

"  It  would,  I  suspect,  Wylie,"  replied  the  earl 
jocularly,  "be  rather  an  awkward  meeting." 

"  Then  you  would  consent  to  meet  her  leddy- 
ship  ?  "  said  our  hero  slyly. 

The  earl  was  startled  at  the  unconscious  dis- 
closure he  had  made  of  his  own  feelings,  while 
he  admired  the  shrewdness  of  his  counsellor  ;  and 
said,  with  a  free  and  sincere  accent,  "  Wylie,  it  is 
in  vain  for  me  to  equivocate  with  you.  I  do  not 
think  the  return  of  the  countess  probable,  and, 
therefore,  have  never  considered  how  I  should 
act  on  such  an  occurrence.  Towards  her  I  can 
bear  no  malice.  But  you  surprise  me.  However, 


NEW  LIGHTS  291 

I  will  say  no  more.  Let  this  conversation,  for  the 
present,  end." 

"  I  thought,"  replied  Andrew,  with  a  degree 
of  firmness  which  surprised  the  earl,  "that  your 
lordship  had  better  notions  of  justice  than  to 
punish  where  perhaps  you  ought  to  make  atone- 
ment." 

His  lordship,  who  had  risen  during  part  of  this 
conversation,  took  a- chair  as  our  hero  uttered  these 
words,  and  looked  flushed  with  an  angry  confusion. 

"  My  lord,"  continued  Andrew,  observing  his 
agitation,  "  there's  none  in  the  world  has  such 
cause  to  speak  the  truth  to  your  lordship  as  I 
have.  You  have  taken  me  by  the  hand,  and  led 
me  out  o'  the  slough  of  poverty,  where  I  might 
have  struggled  and  sunk.  Ye  hae  placed  me  in 
the  flowery  pastures  of  prosperity,  and  ye  shouldna 
be  displeased  at  the  humble  ettling l  of  my  grati- 
tude. If  my  leddy  has  had  her  faults  and  defi- 
ciencies, your  lordship's  own  breast  bears  witness 
that  ye  have  not  yoursel'  been  perfect.  But  I  am 
transgressing  the  bounds  of  discretion  in  speaking 
in  this  manner  to  your  lordship.  Nevertheless, 
my  lord,  though  I  should  offend,  it  will  be  my 
endeavour  to  serve  your  lordship  as  it  is  my  duty 
to  do,  whatever  your  lordship  may  say  to  the 
contrary  ;  and  to  strive,  by  all  honest  means,  to 
testify  my  sense  of  obligation  for  the  kindness 
heaped  upon  me." 

The  earl  was  petrified.  There  was  an  energy 
1  Ettliivj.  Endeavour. 


292  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

of  tone  and  a  decision  of  character  in  this  which 
his  lordship  had  never  experienced  towards  him- 
self, nor  did  he  imagine  Andrew  possessed  half 
so  much  generous  sensibility. 

"  Do  you  think/'  replied  the  earl  thoughtfully, 
"  that  even  were  I  disposed  to  wish  for  a  recon- 
ciliation, Lady  Sandy  ford  might  be  averse  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  hope  she  has  more  sense,  were  your  lordship 
to  entertain  any  such  creditable  wish.  But,  my 
lord,  she  has  been  long  an  outcast,  as  it  were, 
from  your  affections.  I  cannot,  therefore,  venture 
to  give  your  lordship  any  reason  to  think  that  she 
may  wish  for  a  reconciliation.  But  as  soon  as  I 
have  made  an  experiment  I'll  hae  the  greatest 
pleasure  in  letting  you  know  the  result,  especially 
if  it  be  favourable." 

"You  are  too  quick,  Wylie,"  said  the  earl 
coldly ;  "  I  did  not  express  any  solicitude  on  the 
subject.  Judging  from  the  past,  I  still  continue 
of  the  same  mind :  that  it  is  better  for  Lady 
Sandyford  and  me  to  remain  as  we  are  than  to 
live  together  as  we  have  done." 

"That's  no  to  be  denied,"  replied  Andrew. 
"  But  it's  to  be  hoped  that,  were  ye  coming 
thegither  again,  it  would  be  with  better  hopes, 
designs,  and  intents.  Knowing,  as  ye  now  do, 
wherein  the  great  strength  of  both  your  faults 
lies,  ye  would  bear  and  forbear  \vitn  more  recip- 
rocal indulgence.  Ye  couldna  live  the  life  ye 
have  done,  even  though  ye  were  both  so  ill-deedy 
as  to  try." 


NEW  LIGHTS  293 

This  characteristic  touch  made  the  earl  smile ; 
and  he  said,  "  You  are  a  singular  being,  and  will 
have  your  own  way." 

In  saying  these  words,  the  countenance  of  his 
lordship  was  for  a  moment  overcast,  and  the 
sudden  flowing  in  of  thoughts  and  feelings  on  his 
heart  obliged  him  to  leave  the  room.  Andrew 
soon  after  pulled  the  bell,  and,  requesting  the 
carriage  to  be  in  readiness  to  convey  him  to  Castle 
Rooksborough  by  daylight,  was  shown  to  a  bed- 
room. But  it  is  necessary  to  revert  in  the  mean- 
time to  the  situation  of  Lady  Sandyford. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

The  Castie 

JL  HE  countess,  on  sending  off  her  letter,  had 
returned  to  Elderbower,  where  she  received  the 
answer,  the  first  shock  of  which  almost  overset 
her  reason.  She  started  from  her  seat,  and, 
wildly  shaking  her  head  and  hands,  ran  and 
touched  several  articles  in  the  room,  as  if  to 
ascertain  their  reality,  and  that  she  was  not  in  a 
dream.  She  was  like  a  bird  entangled  in  a  snare, 
or  a  captive  when  first  immured  in  his  dungeon. 
She  felt  as  if  an  invisible  power  that  would  crush 
her  to  death  was  closing  in  on  all  sides.  She 
gasped,  as  if  some  enormous  weight  pressed  upon 
her  bosom,  and  for  several  minutes  her  mind  was 
as  the  fury  of  a  glowing  furnace. 

In  the  midst  of  this  paroxysm,  she  made  a 
vigorous  effort  to  control  her  agitation,  and  suc- 
ceeded. While  distractedly  pacing  the  room,  she 
halted  suddenly,  and  said  : 

"Why  do  I  yield  to  this  consternation  ?  There 
is  some  error  in  all  this.  There  is  no  conspiracy 
against  me — I  am  innocent  of  the  crime  imputed 
— I  will  go  at  once  to  my  lord — I  will  relate  the 

2U4 


THE  CASTLE  295 

whole  of  what  has  happened.  He  has  treated  me 
as  if  I  had  no  feeling ;  but  he  is  a  man  of  honour, 
and  will  not  allow  me  to  be  injured  unjustly." 

When  she  had  thus  somewhat  calmed  the  per- 
turbation of  her  spirits,  she  ordered  a  post-chaise 
for  Chastington  Hall,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours  quitted  Elderbower. 

Before  she  had  gained  the  second  stage,  she 
felt  herself  so  much;  indisposed  that  she  was  obliged 
to  stop  and  go  to  bed.  In  the  course  of  the 
night,  however,  she  obtained  some  rest ;  and  her 
spirits  were  so  refreshed  in  the  morning  that  she 
arose  with  a  cheerful  alacrity  to  resume  her  jour- 
ney to  the  residence  of  her  husband. 

After  breakfast,  a  chaise  for  Chastington  was 
accordingly  ordered,  and  she  went  to  the  door, 
attended  by  the  landlord  to  hand  her  in.  As 
she  was  on  the  point  of  ascending  the  steps  of 
the  carriage,  her  hand  was  eagerly  seized  by  some 
one  behind,  and  on  looking  round  she  beheld, 
with  equal  surprise  and  alarm,  the  pale  and 
ghastly  Ferrers. 

"  Ha  ! "  exclaimed  the  countess,  horror-struck  at 
his  appearance  ;  "  how  !  when  !  what  has  brought 
you  here  ?  " 

"  I    came    last   night,   and    I    have   been — - 
What  he  would  have  added  was  bi-oken  off  by  a 
shriek   from   the   countess,  who  fainted,  and  fell 
back  into  his  arms. 

Some  time  elapsed  befoi'e  she  recovered,  and 
when  she  opened  her  eyes  in  the  apartment  to 


296  SIR  ANDREW  WYLTE 

which  she  had  been  carried,  the  first  object  they 
caught  was  Servinal,  her  lord's  valet,  who,  per- 
ceiving that  she  recognised  him,  instantly  left  the 
room,  and,  having  a  horse  ready  at  the  door, 
quitted  the  house.  He  was  on  his  way  to  London 
on  some  confidential  business  ;  but  he  returned  to 
Chastington  Hall  with  the  news  of  this  discovery. 
As  for  Ferrers,  still  under  the  influence  of  in- 
sanity, believing  he  had  been  the  cause  of  this 
unfortunate  lady's  death,  he  rushed  from  the 
house  in  a  state  of  distraction,  and  was  nowhere 
to  be  found. 

When  the  countess  was  so  far  recovered  as  to 
be  able  to  speak,  she  ordered  the  chaise,  which 
still  stood  at  the  door,  to  carry  her  to  Burisland 
Abbey,  where,  immediately  on  her  arrival,  she 
sent  for  Flounce  ;  and  being  determined  now  to 
avail  herself  of  her  father's  offer  of  Bretonsbiekl 
Castle,  she  despatched  at  the  same  time  one  of 
the  servants  to  apprise  the  domestics  of  her  in- 
tention. All  this  was  done  with  a  force  and 
precision  of  mind  new  to  her  character. 

The  singularity  of  the  circumstances  into  which 
she  had  been  placed  with  Ferrers  awakened  in 
her  a  sort  of  superstitious  dread.  Their  misfor- 
tunes seemed  strangely  and  awfully  mingled  ; 
and  feeling  herself  unaccountably  and  darkly  con- 
nected with  the  desperate  fortunes  of  a  frantic 
man,  she  believed  herself  a  passive  agent  in  the 
hands  of  Fate,  and  trembled  to  think  that  she 
was  thus  united  to  some  tremendous  and  im- 


THE  CASTLE  297 

measurable  movement  of  the  universe.  There 
was  sublimity  in  the  fancies  that  rose  with  this 
notion  ;  and  the  place  where  she  had  determined 
to  take  up  her  abode  was  well  calculated  to 
cherish  the  solemn  associations  connected  with  her 
Promethean  resolution  to  retire  from  the  world, 
and  there  await  the  issue  of  that  scheme  of 
destiny  with  which  she  was  so  mysteriously 
involved. 

Bretonsbield  Castle  was  a  pile  of  unknown 
antiquity.  From  the  earliest  periods  of  our 
national  history  it  had  been  remarkable,  on  ac- 
count both  of  its  massy  architecture  and  the 
sullen  and  stern  solitariness  in  which  it  stood. 
The  Saxons  had  added  to  its  strength,  and  the 
Normans  had  enlarged  the  sweep  of  the  walls 
and  the  number  of  the  towers.  In  the  chi- 
valric  times  of  the  heroic  Plantagenets  it  ac- 
quired some  ornamental  appendages  ;  and  in  the 
first  reign  of  the  Stuarts  it  lost  some  of  the 
features  of  a  mere  stronghold  in  a  suite  of  magni- 
ficent apartments,  of  an  airy  and  fantastic  style, 
which,  however,  still  harmonised  with  the  rude 
grandeur  of  the  general  edifice. 

The  road  to  it  lay  along  the  acclivity  of  an  ex- 
tensive common,  and  by  a  gentle  ascent  attained 
the  summit  of  the  downs,  from  which,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  country  below  presented  a  wide  and 
magnificent  prospect,  extending  to  the  horizon, 
while,  on  the  other,  an  open  and  lonely  waste 
spread  out  to  a  great  distance,  in  which  no  other 


2<>8  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

object  was  visible  but  the  castle,  rising  from  the 
midst  of  a  dark  mass  of  fir-trees. 

The  scene  suited  the  disposition  of  Lady  Sandy- 
ford's  mind ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  a  spot 
in  which  the  wild,  the  old,  and  the  magnificent 
were  so  united  was  a  fit  theatre  for  the  exercise 
of  the  courage  and  endurance  which  she  was 
determined  to  exercise.  But  far  different  were 
the  reflections  of  her  waiting  gentlewoman.  Ac- 
cording to  her  own  account,  when  the  carriage 
reached  the  brow  of  the  downs,  and  she  saw 
nothing  before  her  but  a  desert  waste,  she  felt  as 
if  a  magician  was  carrying  her  away  on  the  back 
of  a  fiery  dragon  to  the  well  at  the  world's  end. 

As  the  carriage  drove  into  the  silent  court  of 
the  castle,  like  a  peal  of  thunder,  the  countess 
said,  as  it  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the  hall, 
"  What  an  awful  place  it  is  ! "  and  she  cast  her 
eyes  apprehensively  round  on  the  ivy-mantled 
towers,  the  hoary  walls,  and  the  lichen-furred 
pinnacles. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Flounce  : 

"  '  It  chills  the  suspended  soul, 

Till  expectation  wears  the  cast  of  fear  ; 
And  fear,  half  ready  to  become  devotion, 
Mumbles  a  kind  of  mental  orison, 
It  knows  not  wherefore.'  " 

"  Why,  Flounce  ! "  exclaimed  her  astonished 
lady,  "  where  got  you  that  language  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  sentiment,"  said  that  erudite 


THE  CASTLE  299 

gentlewoman,  "  which  I  learned  by  rote  from  one 
of  Mrs  Radcliffe's  romances.  It  will  be  quite 
charming,  my  lady,  to  read  them  in  this  delight- 
ful Udolpho ;  and  I  hope  your  ladyship  will  make 
a  point  of  having  them  sent  from  town." 

As  none  of  the  servants  were  in  attendance, 
the  countess  desired  the  post-boys  to  open  the 
door,  and,  alighting  with  Flounce,  walked  into 
the  hall.  The  housekeeper,  and  her  husband  the 
gardener,  were  indeed  all  the  domestics  that  the 
Marquis  of  Avonside  kept  at  this  place  ;  and  it 
happened  that,  when  the  carriage  drove  up  to 
the  door,  they  were  in  a  remote  part  of  the  castle. 

The  countess  halted  when  she  had  reached  the 
middle  of  the  hall,  and  surveyed  it  in  silence.  It 
was  lofty,  and  of  stately  dimensions,  lighted  from 
the  one  side  by  two  tall  narrow  windows,  the 
space  between  which  was  occupied  by  a  huge 
arched  chimney,  Avith  massy  antique  iron  dogs 
for  burning  wood ;  and  great  piles  of  billets  at 
each  side  of  the  hearth  showed  something  like  the 
habitude  of  ancient  hospitality.  A  small  claw- 
footed  table,  on  which  stood  a  basket  of  linen  and 
old  stockings,  with  a  pair  of  scissors,  a  thimble, 
and  thread-paper,  lying  around  as  they  had  been 
left  by  the  housekeeper,  occupied,  with  two  old- 
fashioned  gnarled  elbow-chairs,  the  niche  of  one 
of  the  windows.  The  walls  were  of  dark  and 
small-panelled  wainscot,  on  which  hung  four  or 
five  family  portraits  that  time  had  almost  effaced. 
The  aspect  of  the  whole  apartment  was  gaunt 


300  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

and  venerable ;  but  it  could  not  be  said  that 
altogether  the  effect  was  either  desolate  or  melan- 
choly. But  this  was  less  owing  to  the  style  and 
architecture  of  the  room  than  to  the  superb  pros- 
pect which  the  windows  commanded.  The  castle 
stood  on  the  brink  of  a  shaggy  precipice  ;  and  the 
side  where  the  windows  were  placed  overlooked  a 
wide  expanse  of  one  of  the  richest  tracts  of  Eng- 
land, on  which  the  sun  at  the  time  was  shedding 
the  golden  radiance  of  the  afternoon.  Wood- 
lands, parks,  villas,  and  towns  lay  scattered  in 
beautiful  diversity  to  the  utmost  verge  of  the 
horizon ;  and  here  and  there  the  steeple  of  a 
country  church  pointing  to  heaven  might  be  seen 
rising  from  the  middle  of  a  grove,  crowned  with  a 
glittering  star, — the  effect  of  the  setting  sun  on 
the  gilded  weathercock —  ;  while,  broad  and  bright, 
with  all  their  windows  glancing  as  if  illuminated, 
several  large  mansions  studded  (as  it  were)  like 
gems  the  bosom  of  that  magnificent  landscape. 

"  Our  ancestors,"  said  the  countess  to  Flounce, 
"  did  not  lack  taste  in  the  choice  of  situations. 
Their  captives,  with  such  a  free  and  spacious  view 
before  them,  could  scarcely  feel  the  loss  of  liberty." 

At  this  moment  the  old  housekeeper  entered, 
and,  apologising  for  her  accidental  absence,  opened 
a  pair  of  folding-doors  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
hall,  and  conducted  the  countess  through  the  long 
suite  of  state  apartments  to  a  small  drawing-room 
in  an  octagon  tower,  which  commanded  seven 
different  views  from  as  many  small  windows.  "  I 


THE  CASTLE  301 

have  brought  your  ladyship  to  this  place/'  said 
Mrs  Scrubwell,  "because  it  was  the  favourite 
room  of  the  marchioness,  your  mother ;  and  I 
thought  on  that  account  you  would  be  pleased 
with  it." 

"  You  have  judged  rightly/'  replied  her  lady- 
ship with  emotion ;  and  she  mentally  ejaculated, 
"  My  mother !  How  woefully  I  now  feel  that 
loss.'" 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

Inexperience. 

J\_T  break  of  day  our  hero  was  afoot  and  dressed 
for  his  mission  to  the  Rose  and  Crown  at  Castle 
Rooksborough ;  but  instead  of  waiting  for  the 
carriage  to  come  up  to  the  portal  of  the  Hall,  lie 
walked  out  to  the  court  of  offices,  which  stood  at 
some  distance  from  the  mansion. 

It  was  a  beautiful  spring  morning.  The  mavis, 
the  blackbird,  and  the  linnet  were  beginning  to 
chirp  and  churm  over  their  young  in  the  bowers, 
but  the  lark  was  already  at  heaven's  gate  singing 
her  matins.  The  sun  had  not  yet  risen,  and  the 
dewdrops  lay  like  pearls  on  the  grass  and  leaves  ; 
a  cheerful  and  refreshed  composure  was  diffused 
over  the  whole  face  of  the  landscape,  and  the 
forehead  of  the  sky  appeared  unusually  spacious 
and  beautiful :  a  few  grey  flakes  of  vapour  scattered 
over  it  seemed  to  float  at  an  unwonted  elevation, 
as  they  gradually  brightened  into  the  full  glory  of 
the  morning.  The  reflections  of  Andrew  were  in 
unison  with  the  beneficent  aspect  of  nature,  and 
he  loitered  Avith  the  sense  of  beauty  glowing  at 
his  heart,  often  turning  round  as  the  different 


INEXPERIENCE  303 

windings  of  the  road  unfolded,  through  the  massy 
groups  of  foliage,  the  diversified  sceneiy  of  the 
surrounding  countiy. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  entrance  to  the 
stables,  the  carriage  was  coming  out. 

"  Ha'd  your  han',  my  lad,"  he  cried  to  the 
coachman;  "ye  needna  gang  to  the  house;  I'll 
e'en  step  in  here." 

"As  you  please,"  replied  the  coachman;  "but 
Tom  Berry  is  not  yet  come." 

"  And  wha's  Tarn  Bei'ry  ?  " 

"  The  footman,  sir,  that  is  to  go  with  us." 

"  Loup  1  your  ways  doun,  and  let  me  into  the 
chaise.  I'll  no  be  fashed  wi'  ony  sic  ceremonials. 
A'  that  I  want  is  a  fast  drive,  without  couping." 

The  coachman  obeyed,  and  long  before  Tom 
Berry  had  opened  the  shutters  of  his  eyes,  half 
the  journey  was  performed. 

At  a  public-house  within  two  miles  of  Castle 
Rooksborough  our  hero  stopped  the  carriage,  and 
told  the  coachman  to  wait  for  him  there. 

"Your  horses,  my  lad,"  said  he,  "will  be  nane 
the  waur  o'  a  rest ;  and  I'll  just  step  on  by  mysel'." 

"But,"  replied  the  charioteer,  "my  orders  were 
to  take  you  to  the  Rose  and  Crown." 

"  I'll  not  dispute  what  your  orders  were  ;  never- 
theless, ye'll  bide  here  ;  or  if  ye  maun  corn  your 
cattle  at  the  Rose  and  Crown,  and  at  no  other 
place,  I  canna  help  it,  OHHr  ye'll  serve  my  lord's 
turn  better  by  minding  what  I  bid  you." 
i  Loup.  Jump. 


304  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  It  don't  make  no  difference  to  me,"  said  the 
coachman ;  "  and  so  be  as  you  doesn't  wish  for 
the  contrary,  I'd  as  lief  bait  where  we  now  be." 

"  Hear  ye,"  cried  Andrew,  stopping  suddenly, 
after  he  had  alighted  and  was  walking  away, 
seemingly  as  if  he  had  recollected  something, 
"  I  hope  ye'll  sae  naething  to  the  folk  about  the 
inns  here  concerning  my  business." 

"  I  knows  nought  o't,  sir — I  was  but  told  to 
fetch  you  here." 

"Then,"  replied  our  hero,  "ye'll  oblige  me  by 
keeping  your  finger  on  your  mouth,  for  it  might 
be  detrimental  if  ony thing  were  to  spunk  out." 

"  Never  doubt  me,  sir.  I  have  been  bred  and 
born  in  his  lordship's  service,  as  my  father  was 
in  his  father's  :  so  I  may  be  trusted ;  and  I  never 
speaks  of  anybody's  consequences,  but  only  minds 
my  own  servitude." 

"  I  had  a  notion  that  ye  were  a  prudent  lad," 
said  Wylie  ;  "  what  do  they  ca'  you  ?  " 

"My  name,  sir,  is  Snaffle — Jack  Snaffle." 

"  Weel,  Jock,  I  hae  great  dependence  on  your 
sagacity,  and  there's  a  sixpence  to  you  for  a  chappin 
o'  strong  yill  till  I  come  back.  But  mind  and  dinna 
say  onything  in  the  tap-room,  when  ye're  drinking 
and  smoking  your  pipe  wi"  ithers,  anent  my  coming 
to  speer l  the  price  o'  growing  trees  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood :  and  noo  that  I  hae  better  thought  on't, 
ye  needna  let  on  about  my  coming  from  the  Hall 
at  a',  but  pass  me  off  as  a  by-hand  job." 
i  Sjjccr.  Inquire. 


INEXPERIENCE  305 

The  coachman,  being  thus  set  upon  a  wrong 
scent,  supposed  that  Andrew  had  some  interest 
in  the  sale  of  the  timber  then  felling  at  Chasting- 
ton ;  for,  not  belonging  to  the  establishment  of 
Sandyford  House  in  London,  he  knew  little  of 
the  domestic  concerns  of  the  family,  and  nothing 
whatever  of  the  footing  on  which  our  hero  was 
treated  by  his  master. 

Having  in  this  manner  got  himself  extricated 
from  the  embarrassment  of  the  carriage,  Andrew 
walked  forward  to  the  Rose  and  Crown  alone, 
and  upon  his  arrival,  instead  of  going  into  the 
house,  went  to  the  tap  and  ordered  breakfast. 

Among  the  waiters,  hostlers,  and  post-boys, 
several  labourers  were  assembled,  and  the  burden 
of  the  conversation  among  them  was  the  ruin  of 
Ferrers,  interspersed  with  conjectures  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  late  strange  visit  to  the  castle,  and 
observations  on  the  extravagance  of  his  behaviour. 
The  subject  was  interesting  to  Andrew,  and  it 
became  particularly  so  in  consequence  of  one  of 
the  waiters  remarking  that  the  "lady's  child"  (as 
they  called  Monimia  the  orphan)  was  exceedingly 
like  him.  This  observation  was  not,  however, 
altogether  attributable  to  the  discernment  of  the 
waiter ;  for  it  seems  that  Flounce  had,  in  the 
excursion  with  her  lady,  more  than  hinted  to 
one  of  the  chambermaids  that  she  should  not  be 
surprised  if  the  unknown  baby  was  Mr  Ferrers' 
daughter,  for  it  was  as  like  him  as  a  kitten  to 
a  cat,  and  the  chambermaid  had  frequently  ex- 

voi..   i.  u 


306  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

pressed  her  admiration  of  the  resemblance,  until 
a  very  general  persuasion  of  the  fact  was  enter- 
tained among  all  the  servants  of  the  house. 

It  is  certainly  much  to  be  regretted  that  people 
do  not  always  act  with  the  most  perfect  reason 
and  good  sense.  But  if  they  did  so,  there  would 
be  an  end  to  everything  romantic  in  life ;  and 
therefore,  perhaps  it  is  as  well,  after  all,  that 
there  is  a  little  folly  in  the  world,  a  blessing 
which  we  sometimes  think  was  bestowed  to  pro- 
duce amusement.  The  reflections  on  the  "  lady's 
child/'  and  its  resemblance  to  Ferrers,  had  the 
effect  of  inducing  our  hero  to  change  his  original 
intention  of  sifting  the  mystery  at  Castle  Rooks- 
borough,  and  to  adopt  another,  calculated,  as  he 
thought,  to  bring  the  business  to  a  more  speedy 
conclusion :  and  assuredly  it  would  have  done  so 
had  there  not  been  other  causes  at  work,  the  force 
and  effect  of  which  he  could  neither  counteract 
nor  foresee. 

The  construction  that  he  put  upon  the  unfortu- 
nate manner  in  which  the  orphan  was  mentioned, 
namely,  "the  lady's  child,"  led  him  to  conclude 
that  the  real  circumstances  of  its  birth  were  not 
to  be  ascertained  at  that  place,  and  he  resolved 
to  proceed  directly  to  Elderbower,  and  have  an 
explanation  with  Lady  Sandyford  herself. 

This  determination  undoubtedly  originated  in 
motives  of  delicacy  towards  her  ladyship  ;  for  the 
coarse  remarks  of  the  persons  around  him  with 
respect  to  the  unfortunate  Ferrers  had  the  effect 


INEXPERIENCE  307 

to  make  him  feel  an  extreme  repugnance  to  enter 
into  any  conversation  with  them.  He  accordingly 
sent  a  messenger  to  the  inn  where  he  had  left  the 
carriage  to  order  it  back  to  Chastington  Hall,  and 
when  the  London  coach  came  up,  he  mounted 
the  roof,  and  was  conveyed  to  Elderbower. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

At  Fault. 

wUR  hero  reached  the  mansion  of  the  dowager 
about  an  hour  too  late.  Flounce,  in  obedience 
to  the  summons  of  her  mistress,  had  quitted  the 
house  and  gone  to  join  her  at  Burisland  Abbey ; 
whence,  as  we  have  related,  they  proceeded  to 
Bretonsbield  Castle.  The  servants  were  still  in 
all  the  quandary  and  agitation  which  belonged, 
among  them,  to  the  unexpected  and  unexplained 
nature  of  that  event.  And  Andrew,  on  inquiring 
at  the  gate  for  the  countess,  was  informed  that 
they  knew  nothing  of  her.  This  intelligence 
mortified  him  exceedingly ;  and  he  stood  for 
some  time  in  a  state  of  stupefaction,  occasioned 
by  the  repulsive  tone  in  which  it  was  given. 
He,  however,  soon  rallied,  and  endeavoured  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  John  Luncheon, 
the  footman,  who  had  answered  the  gate-bell ; 
but  his  questions  were  so  gruffly  dismissed 
that  he  was  utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 
At  last  he  mustered  self-possession  enough  to 
say,  "  I  have  come  from  my  lord  at  Chasting- 
ton  Hall  on  most  particular  business  with  my 

308 


AT  FAULT  309 

ledcly ;  but,  really,  what  ye  say  is  very  con- 
founding." 

Upon  hearing  this,  John  gave  him  immediate 
admittance,  and  conducted  him  to  Mrs  Polisher. 

"What's  a'  this  amang  you  ?  "  said  he  to  her  as 
soon  as  the  footman  had  left  the  room.  "  Whar's 
Leddy  Sandyford,  or  that  glaikit  clatter-stoup,1 
Flounce,  her  maiden  ?  I  would  fain  see  the  tane 
or  the  t'other."  • 

"As  for  that,"  replied  the  decorous  house- 
keeper, "  it  is  impossible  to  give  you  any  satis- 
faction. The  day  before  yesterday,  the  countess, 
as  I  must  continue  to  call  her  till  my  lord  instructs 
us  to  the  contrary,  left  this  in  a  post-chaise  alone 
for  Chastington  Hall." 

"  That's  no  to  be  credited,"  cried  Andrew, 
petrified  at  the  news ;  "  for  I  left  it  this  morning, 
and  she  wasna  there." 

"  Ah  !  well  we  know  that,"  said  Mrs  Polisher  ; 
"  she  went  but  two  stages,  where,  feigning  to  be 
indisposed,  she  stopped  ;  and  that  evening  the 
fellow  Ferrers  came  to  the  inn  where  she  then 
was." 

Andrew  drew  in  his  breath,  as  if  he  had  been 
pierced  in  the  most  sensitive  part  with  some  acute 
instrument,  and  then  gave  a  long  and  deep  puff 
of  his  breath,  as  if  inwardly  suffering  the  greatest 
corporeal  anguish. 

"Then,"  continued  the  housekeeper,  "such  a 
tragical  scene  took  place,  on  her  stepping  into  the 
1  Glaikit  clatter- stoup.  Giddy  rattle-pan. 


310  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

carriage  next  morning  after  bidding  Mr  Ferrers 
farewell,  as  never  was  witnessed.  She  fainted 
cold  dead,  and  he  ran  off  in  a  state  of  distraction, 
and  some  think  he  has  made  away  with  himself." 

"  All  this,"  said  our  hero,  "  is  most  prodigious ; 
but  how  came  you  to  hear  so  many  particulars  ?  " 

"Why,  the  fact  cannot  be  questioned,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs  Polisher,  a  little  sharply,  at  hear- 
ing any  shade  of  doubt  cast  on  her  information. 
"  Mr  Servinal  himself  happened  to  come  up  to  the 
inn-door  at  the  critical  moment ;  and,  on  seeing 
what  took  place,  clapped  spurs  to  his  horse,  and 
galloped  back  to  Chastington  Hall,  to  inform  his 
master  of  this  most  scandalous  discovery." 

"  But  how  did  you  hear  it  ?  Who  galloped 
here  with  this  black  story  ?  That's  what  I  wish 
to  know,"  said  Andrew,  in  a  peevish  accent,  dis- 
tressed, and  almost  angry,  he  knew  not  why. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  housekeeper,  "  ill  tidings  are 
fast  travellers.  The  chaise  which  her  ladyship 
had  ordered  for  Chastington  before  she  was  de- 
tected by  Mr  Servinal,  as  soon  as  her  fellow  was 
off,  knowing  it  was  all  over  with  her  character, 
she  ordered  round  to  Burisland  Abbey,  where  she 
now  is ;  and  her  slippery  nymph,  Flounce,  has 
gone  there  with  their  bags  and  baggage.  The 
post-boys  who  drove  her  told  the  whole  story  to 
the  Avonsides,  and  the  groom,  who  came  to  fetch 
Flounce,  told  our  men :  so  there  is  no  dubious 
possibility  in  the  matter.  The  only  thing  that 
has  consternated  me  in  the  business  is  how  our 


AT  FAULT  311 

Lady  Sandyford  was  so  blind  as  not  to  see  through 
the  craftiness  of  the  plot.  But  I  take  great  blame 
to  myself  for  concealing  from  her  what  everybody 
in  the  house  knew  so  well." 

"  And  what  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Andrew  sor- 
rowfully, quite  overcome  to  find  his  good  opinion 
of  the  countess  so  utterly  wrecked. 

"The  child.  The  two  good-for-nothings  had 
not  been  here  above  three  or  four  days  till  I  found 
all  out :  where  the  brat  was  at  nurse,  and  what 
beautiful  clothes  were  so  clandestinely  sent  to  it," 
said  Mrs  Polisher;  adding,  in  a  tone  of  exultation 
at  having  so  completely  established  what  she 
deemed  the  truth,  "  And  the  creature  Flounce, 
in  her  hurry,  has  left  behind  a  portrait  of  Ferrers, 
which  we  all  know,  for  we  have  seen  him  often. 
I  have  it,  and  will  deliver  it  to  my  lord." 

"Weel,"  ejaculated  Andrew,  with  a  sigh,  "I 
have  come  a  gowk's  errand  ;  and  what  am  I  to 
do  next  ?  " 

At  first  an  indescribable  impulse  of  compassion, 
interest,  and  curiosity  prompted  him  to  visit  the 
countess  at  Burisland  Abbey  ;  for  still  (but  it  was 
only  for  a  moment)  he  thought  there  might  be 
some  mistake  in  the  story.  But  the  tissue  of  cir- 
cumstances was  so  strong  that  he  could  not  resist 
it ;  and  he  almost  instantly  resolved  to  return 
without  delay  to  Chastington  Hall,  in  order  to 
ascertain  the  whole  extent  of  the  derogatory  dis- 
covery which  he  was  led  to  believe.  Servinal  had 
made.  On  quitting  Klderbower,  however,  he  re- 


312  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

fleeted  that  his  services  could  no  longer  be  of  any 
use  to  the  earl,  and  that,  under  the  disagreeable 
circumstances  which  had  come  to  light,  it  would 
be  more  discreet  to  return  at  once  to  town. 
Accordingly,  he  proceeded  straight  to  the  Nag's 
Head,  where  he  engaged  a  place  in  the  London 
coach,  and  wrote  a  brief  but  characteristic  note 
to  the  earl,  to  the  effect  that,  finding  he  had 
been  all  in  the  wrong,  he  could  do  no  better 
than  go  home  to  Mr  Vellum's  work :  his  only 
consolation  being  that  he  had  been  actuated  by 
the  best  intentions. 

When  his  lordship  received  this  note,  he  read 
it  over  several  times.  He  perceived  that  the  in- 
formation which  Andrew  had  obtained  was  in 
unison  with  the  discovery  that  Servinal  had  sup- 
posed he  had  made ;  and  he  had  no  doubt  that 
it  was  perfectly  true,  and  of  the  most  afflicting 
kind.  He  affected,  however,  to  speak  of  it  to 
his  mother  lightly,  and  he  praised  the  delicacy 
which  dictated  Andrew's  letter  and  resolution  to 
return  directly  to  London ;  but  she  soon  saw 
the  profound  effect  which  it  had  produced,  and 
trembled  for  the  consequences.  For,  although 
he  seemingly  in  nothing  changed  the  daily  routine 
of  his  recreations,  she  could  discern  that  there 
was  a  self-exertion  about  him  that  was  wholly 
at  variance  with  the  easy  air  he  affected ;  and 
several  times,  when  he  seemed  to  be  only  reading 
at  the  table,  she  observed  his  eyes  to  wander 
vacantly  round  the  room,  and  a  tear  drop  upon 


AT  FAULT  313 

the  unnoticed  page.  More  than  once  she  began 
to  speak  with  him  on  the  subject  of  his  concealed 
sorrow ;  but  he  either  broke  away  from  her 
abruptly,  or  exclaimed,  with  a  sharp  accent  of 
vexation,  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  spare  me  ;  I  cannot 
endure  to  think  of  what  lias  passed  ! " 

One  afternoon  he  seemed  to  have  recovered 
his  wonted  serenity ;  but  there  was  a  tone  of 
solemnity  and  sadiless  in  his  voice  which  filled 
the  maternal  breast  of  the  dowager  with  boding 
and  dread,  and  when,  in  the  course  of  the  even- 
ing, he  happened  incidentally  to  remark  that  he 
considered  himself  as  the  cause  of  his  wife's  ruin, 
she  was  struck  with  a  feeling  of  horror  and  alarm, 
especially  when,  in  attempting  to  palliate  the  re- 
flection that  dictated  this  sentiment,  she  hinted 
at  the  selfish  disposition  which  the  countess  had 
always  shown. 

"  Do  not  blame  her  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I  was  a 
fool  not  to  have  seen  her  true  character  from  the 
beginning.  I  know  not  why  I  was  so  besotted 
as  to  believe  that  under  her  artificial  manners 
I  saw  the  latent  principles  and  essence  of  worth, 
and  virtues,  and  sensibilities.  Heavens,  what  a 
wretch  I  have  been,  if  she  did  indeed  possess 
any  such  qualities  !  " 

And,  rising  from  his  seat,  he  rushed  wildly  out 
of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  Scientific  Baronet. 

_C  OR  some  time  after  the  Earl  of  Sandyford's 
departure  from  London,  his  friend  Mordaunt  re- 
mained anxious  and  indecisive  respecting  his  own 
matrimonial  concerns.  The  baronet  still  so  strictly 
adhered  to  his  determination  that  Julia  should 
marry  Birchland  that  it  was  found  impracticable 
to  work  alike  upon  his  feelings  or  his  reason. 
He  had  given  his  word,  and  that  pledge  he  was 
resolved  to  redeem. 

Having  exhausted  every  other  resource  of  in- 
fluence and  persuasion,  Mordaunt  at  last  recol- 
lected what  the  earl  said  to  him  about  our  hero, 
whose  address  and  sagacity  had  indeed  left  a 
favourable  impression  on  his  own  mind.  But 
there  was  something  in  the  appearance  of  Andrew 
not  altogether  satisfactory  to  the  pride  of  Mor- 
d.iunt ;  and  although  he  was  inclined  to  consult 
him,  he  did  not  very  clearly  perceive  in  what 
manner  his  services  could  be  rendered  available. 

However,  soon  after  Andrew's  return  to  Lon- 
don, having  sent  for  him  to  breakfast,  in  order 
to  inquire  respecting  the  unfortunate  situation  of 

314 


A  SCIENTIFIC  BARONET  315 

Lord  and  Lady  Sandyford,  in  the  course  of  their 
conversation  he  several  times  became  thoughtful, 
and  alluded  inadvertently  to  his  own  matrimonial 
prospects  with  doubt  and  anxiety.  This,  in  one 
instance,  was  so  particular  that  our  hero  could 
not  help  remarking  that  he  seemed  troubled ; 
and,  from  one  thing  to  another,  Mordaunt  at  last 
opened  his  mind,  describing  the  perplexity  aris- 
ing from  the  intractable  character  of  Sir  Thomas 
Beauchamp ;  at  the  same  time  expressing  his 
regret  that  the  circumstances  of  Lord  Sandyford 
should  have  been  such  as  to  deprive  him  of  his 
powerful  assistance,  to  influence,  if  possible,  the 
paternal  feelings  of  the  baronet. 

Andrew  sat  for  some  time  silent.  At  last  he 
said,  "  I  canna  understan'  what's  the  need  o'  a' 
this  fasherie ;  for,  surely,  if  the  lad  and  the  lass 
are  baith  willing,  they  may  soon  come  the- 
gither." 

"  But,"  replied  Mordaunt,  "there  are  two  things 
to  be  considered :  first,  the  obligation  which  Sir 
Thomas  conceives  he  is  under  to  Birchland  ;  and 
Miss  Beauchamp's  fortune.  If  she  marry  without 
her  father's  consent,  I  am  persuaded  he  will  cut 
her  off  with  a  shilling." 

"  It  would  be  very  dure  o'  the  auld  carle  were 
he  to  do  the  like  o'  that.  But  as  for  his  promise, 
that's  but  wind  o'  the  mouth  and  breath  o'  the 
nostril.  The  siller,  however,  is  a  deevil.  I'm 
thinking  that  a  fortune's  no  to  be  made,  even  by 
matrimony,  without  trouble.  But,  no  to  mince 


316  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  matter,  what  does  the  leddy  hersel'  say? 
Will  she  rin  awa  \vi'  you  ?  " 

Mordaunt  laughed,  and  replied  that  the  case 
was  not  so  desperate. 

"Toot,  toot!"  exclaimed  Andrew;  "ye  ken  vera 
weel  that  I  didna  mean  that  she  was  to  gallop, 
stridling  on  a  horse,  wi'  you  in  a  pock  before 
her,  like  a  cadger  wi'  a  smuggled  keg  o'  brandy, 
or  a  butcher  wi'  a  calf  frae  the  fair.  But  to  speak 
proper  English,  if  we  maun  be  on  our  perjinks,1 
will  you  an'  her  baith  rin  awa  thegither  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mordaunt ;  "  that  is  the  difficulty. 
She  will  not  consent  to  take  any  such  disgraceful 
step." 

"  I'm  thinking  then,  sir,  that  you  should  strain 
a  point  to  get  her ;  for,  an'  that's  her  mind,  she'll 
mak'  you  a  very  decent  wife." 

"Well,"  cried  Mordaunt:  "but  how  is  the 
point  to  be  strained  ?  " 

"  I'll  gang  and  speak  to  Sir  Thomas,"  said 
Andrew.  "  I  would  hear  what  he  has  to  say 
anent  the  matter.  Let  me  ken  the  rights  o'  the 
case  first,  and  then  aiblins  it  may  be  in  my  capa- 
city to  help  you." 

"  Depend  upon't,  Mr  Wylie,"  said  Mordaunt, 
"  that  any  interference  of  a  stranger  with  Sir 
Thomas  will  only  make  matters  worse.  He's  a 
thorough  self-willed  roundhead,  and  can  only  be 
dealt  with  by  letting  him  have  his  own  way." 

"  If  he  thinks  he  lias  it,  won't  that  do  as  weel, 
1  Perjinks.  P's  and  q's. 


A  SCIENTIFIC  BARONET  31? 

sir  ?  Mr  Mordaunt,  an'  ye  put  your  concerns  into 
my  hands,  ye  maun  just  let  me  tak  my  ain  gait, 
or  I'll  only  ravel  them  by  my  meddling.  Is  Sir 
Thomas  at  hame,  think  ye,  even  noo  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  exclaimed  Mordaunt,  in  a  tone  of 
alarm,  "  you  would  not  rush  to  him  at  once  on 
the  business  ?  " 

"  Dinna  fash  your  head  about  my  ways  and 
means,  sir.  Are  nae  ye  wud  l  for  your  wedding  ? 
What  for  would  ye  put  obstacles  and  delays  to  your 
ain  pleasure  ?  I'll  go  to  him  outright ;  so  just  sit 
ye  whar  ye  are  till  I  come  back.  It's  easier  to 
excuse  an  ill  deed  than  to  gie  satisfactoiy  reasons 
beforehand  for  the  doing  o'  a  good  one.  There- 
fore, Mr  Mordaunt,  sit  still ;  an'  if  ye  hae  nae  other 
playock,  try  if  ye  can  persuade  the  cat  to  stand  on 
her  hind-legs  till  I  come  back."  And  in  saying 
these  words,  our  hero,  with  a  smirking  nod,  whisked 
out  of  the  room,  leaving  Mordaunt  equally  asto- 
nished at  his  humour  and  familiarity — distrusting 
his  prudence,  while  he  admired  his  promptitude. 

Andrew  went  directly  to  Sir  Thomas's  ;  and,  on 
the  servant  telling  the  baronet  that  a  young  man 
desired  to  speak  with  him  on  very  particular 
business,  he  at  once  obtained  an  audience. 

Sir  Thomas  was  a  tall,  meagre,  hard-favoured 
personage,  verging  towards  his  grand  climacteric. 
He  had  little  of  the  general  appearance  of  a 
country  gentleman,  except  in  the  freshness  of  his 
complexion ;  indeed,  he  had  never  cared  much 
1  Wud.  Eager. 


318  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

for  field-sports,  or  for  those  kinds  of  exercises  so 
contributory  to  that  hearty  obstreperous  corpu- 
lency which  is  commonly  deemed  the  most  re- 
markable characteristic  of  the  regular  members  of 
a  country  quorum.  The  baronet,  in  fact,  was,  in 
his  own  opinion,  a  man  of  science ;  but  whether 
he  excelled  most  in  botany,  mechanics,  chemistry, 
astronomy,  mathematics,  or  metaphysics,  he  had 
never  ascertained,  having  no  neighbours  who  un- 
derstood even  the  meaning  of  the  terms.  But, 
undoubtedly,  his  proficiency  must  have  been  very 
extraordinary ;  for  he  had  several  times  read  all 
the  books  in  his  library  which  related  to  these 
sciences,  amounting  to  nearly  a  hundred  volumes, 
part  of  the  collection  of  his  maternal  ancestor,  Dr 
Gropingwit,  who  flourished  in  the  Augustan  reign 
of  Queen  Anne  :  as  Sir  Thomas  often  said  of  him, 
"  A  most  learned  man,  having  been  one  of  the 
contemporaries  of  the  great  Sir  Isaac  Newton." 
To  this  collection  the  baronet  himself  had  made 
no  additions  ;  j  udiciously  observing,  when  any  new 
book  relative  to  his  private  studies  was  acci- 
dentally mentioned,  "  Those  that  drink  at  the 
fountain-head  can  never  relish  the  waters  of  the 
polluted  stream."  And  then  he  was  wont  to 
spout,  with  a  sounding  voice,  and  a  most  tragical 
emphasis,  of  both  look  and  gesture,  the  following 
verses  from  Chaucer : 

"  Out  of  the  old  fieldes,  as  man  saith, 
Cometh  the  new  corn  fro  year  to  year ; 
And  out  of  old  books,  in  good  faith, 
Cometh  all  new  science  that  men  lere." 


A  SCIENTIFIC  BARONET  319 

His  favourite  passage,  however,  from  the  poets 
was  the  opening  to  Young's  Night  Thoughts,  which 
he  repeated  sometimes  on  a  Sunday  evening  to 
his  sister,  Miss  Lucretia,  with  so  much  slow 
solemnity  that  sleep,  in  propria  persona,  generally 
paid  her  a  visit  before  he  got  to  the  cadence  of 

"  Lights  on  lids  unsullied  with  a  tear  ; " 

at  the  close  of  which  he  was  wont  to  give  an 
awful  stroke  on  the  table,  as  with  the  melan- 
cholious  hand  of  Fate,  and  Miss  Lucretia  as 
regularly  then  awoke,  and  said,  "  Brother,  what's 
the  clock  ?  "  To  this  he  as  regularly  replied,  with 
a  smile  of  compassion, 

"  We  take  no  note  of  time, 
To  give  it  then  a  tongue  was  wise  in  man  ; " 

but  lifting  his  watch  from  the  table  at  his  elbow, 
he  subjoined,  "  Ring  for  tea." 


CHAPTER    XLI 

A  Remonstrance. 

jrxNDREW,  when  shown  into  the  baronet's  par- 
lour, was  rather  startled  at  his  appearance.  Sir 
Thomas  was  reading  in  an  arm-chair,  with  his 
feet  on  the  fender ;  his  clothes  had  been  hastily 
huddled  on — a  condition  that  could  not  be  alto- 
gether fairly  attributed  to  having  hurriedly 
dressed  himself  on  account  of  the  sharpness  of 
the  weather,  for  in  all  seasons  he  breakfasted 
in  that  state,  and  sat  till  about  twelve  o'clock. 
His  stockings  were  loose,  his  knees  unbuttoned, 
his  neckcloth  untied,  and  a  slovenly  grey  duffle 
morning-coat  carelessly  invested  the  generality 
of  his  figure  ;  while  an  old  fur  cap  had  succeeded 
his  nightcap,  and  was  destined,  when  the  sun 
passed  the  meridian,  to  be  supplanted  in  its  turn 
by  a  wig. 

"  Well,  friend,"  said  he  to  Andrew,  looking 
over  his  shoulder  as  our  hero  entered  the  room, 
"  Avhat  are  your  commands  ?  " 

"  I  hae  something  that  I  would  say  to  you," 
replied  our  hero  ;  and  he  glanced  at  the  venerable 
Miss  Lucretia,  who  was  sitting  on  the  opposite 

320 


A  REMONSTRANCE  321 

side  of  the  fire,  busily  employed  in  examining  the 
weekly  bills  of  the  family.  This  look  (if  Sir 
Thomas  had  observed  it)  was  meant  to  intimate  a 
wish  that  the  lady  might  be  requested  to  favour 
them  with  her  absence  ;  but  it  was  unnoticed, 
and  Andrew  continued,  "  I  believe,  sir,  ye  hae 
some  acquaintance  with  Mr  Mordaunt  ?  " 

"  I  know  the  gentleman,"  replied  the  baronet, 
closing  the  book,  and  looking  from  under  his 
spectacles  as  if  he  expected  something  inte- 
resting. 

"  He's  a  worthy  gentleman,"  said  Andrew, 
"and  I  am  sure  has  a  great  respect  for  you,  and 
would  do  onything  to  oblige  you  in  his  power." 

"  Hem  !  "  ejaculated  the  baronet ;  and  Miss 
Lucretia  looked  askance  from  her  household  bills 
towards  the  sly  advocate.  "  But  what's  the  drift 
of  all  this,  young  man  ? "  inquired  Sir  Thomas, 
laying  his  book  on  the  table,  and  taking  off  his 
spectacles. 

"  Nothing  particular,  Sir  Thomas ;  but  only  as 
he's  a  good  frien'  to  me,  I  wish  him  weel,  and 
would  fain  hope  that  things  are  no  past  remedy 
between  him  and  you  ;  for  if  that's  the  case,  he's 
a  gone  dick — a  dead  man,  as  the  saying  is — and 
1  doubt  his  death-ill  will  lie  at  your  door,  Sir 
Thomas." 

The  baronet  looked  in  some  degree  of  ama/e- 
incnt;  and  Miss  Lucretia,  in  her  turn,  glanced 
her  inquisitive  eyes  first  at  our  hero  and  then 
on  her  brother. 

VOL.  i.  x 


322  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Andrew  saw  their  anxiety,  and  concluded  that 
Sir  Thomas  meant  to  signify  he  thought  him  in- 
sane ;  for  he  observed  him  touching  his  forehead 
as  he  ocularly  replied  to  Miss  Lucretia's  ocular 
interrogation.  However,  none  disconcerted,  he 
intrepidly  continued,  "  But  I'm  sure,  Sir  Thomas, 
that  it's  no  in  your  nature  to  harm  the  hair  o'  a 
dog,  far  less  a  gentleman  that  has  a  great  regard 
for  you  and  all  your  family,  especially  for  your 
dochter,  Miss  Julia." 

Miss  Lucretia  abandoned  the  investigation  of 
her  bills,  and,  pushing  back  her  chair  from  the 
table,  sat  in  upright  astonishment.  The  baronet's 
under-lip  fell  down,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to 
say  whether  his  eyes  or  mouth  most  strongly  ex- 
pressed the  wondering  of  his  spirit. 

"  Ye  maunna  be  surprised,  Sir  Thomas,  at  what 
I'm  saying,  for  it's  a  truth  that  Mr  Mordaunt's  in 
a  state  of  great  distress  o'  mind  ;  and  he's  my 
friend,  and  I  canna  but  try  to  serve  him.  But 
he  says,  Sir  Thomas,  you're  such  a  man  of  your 
word  that  I  have  no  hope  ye'll  ever  consent  to 
give  him  your  dochter.  To  that,  however,  sir, 
I  answered  that  surely  ye  were  a  rational  man, 
and  would  hearken  to  rationality." 

"What's  your  name  ?  "  inquired  the  baronet. 

"  My  name's  Andrew  Wylie." 

"  And  did  Mr  Mordaunt  send  you  to  speak  on 
the  subject  to  me  ?  "  resumed  Sir  Thomas. 

"No,  sir;  he  was  confounded  when  I  offered 
to  come  ;  but  better  to  hae  a  finger  off  than  aye 


A  REMONSTRANCE  323 

aching.  There  was  nae  need  that  he  should  pine 
ony  langer  in  pain ;  or  you,  Sir  Thomas,  live  in 
anxiety  lest  Miss  Julia  and  him  should  rin  a\va' 
to  Gretna  Green,  —  for  the  siclike  has  been 
before.  I'm  sure  this  sensible  leddy  here  kens 
that  ye're  running  a  dreadful  risk  of  an  elope- 
ment." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it ! "  exclaimed  Miss 
Lucretia  with  an  indignant  snort. 

"  Nae  offence,  madam,  I  hope,"  replied  Andrew  ; 
"  but  I'm  vera  sure  ye  wouldna,  ony  mair  than 
Sir  Thomas  himsel',  like  to  see  Miss  Julia  and 
Mr  Mordaunt  jehuing  awa'  in  a  chaise  and  four, 
and  you  and  her  father  flying  like  twa  desperate 
tigers  after  them,  and  no  able  to  catch  them." 

"  Why,  friend,"  said  the  baronet,  "  this  seems 
to  be  a  very  singular  interference  on  your  part. 
I  don't  understand  it.  How  came  Mr  Mordaunt 
to  consult  you  in  an  affair  of  this  sort  ?  " 

"  Ye  wouldna,  Sir  Thomas,  hae  me  to  be  my 
ain  trumpeter  ?  "  replied  our  hero  significantly. 

"  Then,  to  put  an  end  to  the  business  at  once, 
my  word  is  pledged  to  Mr  Birchland." 

"So  Mr  Mordaunt  said.  But  ye  ?naun  just 
break  your  word,  Sir  Thomas ;  for  a  broken 
word's  nae  thing  to  a  broken  heart." 

"  I  tell  you,  friend,  that  I  will  hear  nothing 
further  on  this  subject,"  replied  the  baronet. 

"  We'll  hae  twa  words  about  that,  Sir  Thomas. 
1  diima  think,  noo,  baronet,  that  ye're  just  such 
a  contumacious  man  as  to  be  out  o'  the  reach  o* 


324  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

reason  a'thegither,  or  I  wouldna  speak  to  you 
as  I  do,  but  help  the  lad  and  lass  to  be  man 
and  wife  wi'  a'  expedient  ability.  Therefore,  Sir 
Thomas,  ye  maun  consider  this  matter  with  a 
cool  and  a  sound  mind,  an'  ye  hae  ony  pretensions 
to  gumption 1  at  a' ;  for  it's  no  past  the  bounds 
o'  probability  that  some  morning  or  lang  ye  may 
rant  and  ring  for  your  dochter,  whiskit  awa'  wi' 
the  gaberlunzie, 2  an'  ye  continue  in  this  contrarie 
disposition." 

"  Does  Mordaunt  mean  to  force  me  in  this 
manner  to  give  my  consent?"  said  the  baronet 
angrily. 

"  I'm  sure,"  replied  Andrew,  "  that  I  see  nae 
forcing  about  it.  But  if  ye  will  gar  your  dochter 
marry  a  man  she  doesna  like,  what  comfort  will 
ye  get  frae  your  dure  word  of  honour,  an'  ye  hear, 
in  less  than  a  week  after  the  wedding,  a'  the  big 
wigs  o'  Doctors'  Commons  in  a  commotion  ?  " 

"  The  insinuation  is  insulting  to  my  daughter's 
honour  and  principles ! "  exclaimed  the  baronet 
wrathfully. 

"  Vera  true  ;  but,  Sir  Thomas,  ye  ken  marriages 
are  made  in  heaven,  and  it's  plainly  ordain't  that 
Miss  Julia  and  Mr  Mordaunt  were  trysted  there 
by  their  mutual  affection ;  and  ye're  fighting 
against  the  laws  o'  God  when  ye  would  try  to 
set  aside  this  natural  attraction  or  affinity  o' 
their  spirits." 

This  touched  the  philosophy  of  the  baronet,  and 
1  Gumption.  Common-sense.  -  Gaberlunzie.  Beggar. 


A  REMONSTRANCE  325 

opened  to  him  a  view  of  the  subject  that  had  never 
presented  itself  to  him  before,  and  he  said,  "  Are 
you  acquainted  with  the  Newtonian  philosophy  ?  " 
"  'Deed  no,  sir ;  I  never  fash  my  head  wi'  sic 
havers ;  for  if  a  man's  void  o'  common-sense,  I 
wonder  what  the  wiser  he'll  be  wi'  philosophy. 
Can  philosophy  mend  a  club-foot,  or  put  under- 
standing in  a  toom  l  head  ?  I  doubt  not.  Truly, 
sir,  it  behoves  you  -to  think  on  what  I  hae  said. 
Firstly,  there  may  be  an  elopement ;  secondly, 
there  may  be  worse  ;  and  thirdly,  and  assuredly, 
one  way  or  another,  there  will  be  a  broken  heart, 
and  the  sin  and  blame  o'  a'  will  rest  on  your 
head.  Talk  o'  words  o'  honour  in  a  case  like 
this !  What's  a  word  o'  honour  mair  than  ony 
ither  word?  It's  just  wind,  Sir  Thomas;  and  if 
ye'll  tak  my  advice,  the  sooner  ye  break  it  ye'll 
be  the  easier.  O  Sir  Thomas,  ye  look  like  a  man 
that  has  something  fatherly  in  you  !  But  think 
o'  auld,  doited  Jephtha  :  what  did  he  get  by  his 
rash  vow  ?  What  consolation  was  it  to  him  to  see 
his  lovely  daughter  lying  in  her  winding-sheet  ? 
Wrords  o'  honour,  Sir  Thomas  ?  Snuffs  o'  tobacco. 
But  I'll  sae  nae  mair  at  present :  I  see  ye're 
prickit.  O  Sir  Thomas !  Sir  Thomas  !  there's 
nae  plaster  for  a  wounded  conscience,  nor  solder 
for  a  broken  heart.  It  will  be  an  awfu'  thing, 
when  ye  lie  down  to  die,  to  think  o'  the  shame 
or  misery  o'  your  only  daughter  ;  and  that,  but 
for  your  own  outstrapalous  obstinacy,2  ye  might 
1  Toom.  Empty.  -  Outstrapalous.  Obstreperous. 


326  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

hae  left  her  in  felicity,  or  been  laying  your  hand 
in  prayer  on  the  heads  o'  her  bonnie  wee  bairnies, 
a'  greeting  like  bleating  lambies  at  your  bed- 
side. Think  o'  that,  Sir  Thomas — think  o'  that ; 
and  if  ye  can  then  set  yourself  up  against  the 
laws  o'  God  and  nature  wi'  your  daft  words  o' 
honour,  I  ken  mysel'  what's  the  name  that  will 
best  fit  you." 

The  ascendency  which  our  hero  here  assumed, 
and  unconsciously  felt,  produced  a  profound  effect 
on  the  baronet's  mind  and  heart.  He  rose  from 
his  seat  and  walked  across  the  room ;  he  halted 
and  looked  at  Andrew ;  he  then  seemed  to  turn 
his  thoughts  inwardly,  and  again  he  paused. 

"Tell  Mr  Mordaunt,"  at  last  he  said,  "to  come 
to  me." 

"That's  a  man,"  exclaimed  Andrew;  "noo 
ye're  like  yoursel',  baronet ;  gladly  will  I  tell  Mr 
Mordaunt — so  I  wish  you  a  vera  good  morning. 
Ye  see,  madam,  what  it  is  to  hae  a  kind  heart 
like  Sir  Thomas :  it's  the  source  o'  a'  delight 
and  comfort  in  this  world,  begetting  friends  and 
quenching  foes.  Good  morning  to  you  again,  Sir 
Thomas,  and  to  you  too,  madam." 

And  with  this  our  hero  quitted  the  room,  and 
sped  with  what  speed  he  could  to  inform  Mor- 
daunt of  the  happy  result  of  his  visit.  ' 


CHAPTER   XLII 

Encouragement. 

J\.  FEW  days  after  this  interview,  Andrew  found 
a  letter  from  his  grandmother,  which  the  master 
had  written  to  her  dictation.  It  related  chiefly 
to  some  small  matters  that  she  was  sending ;  but 
it  contained  a  postscript  from  Tannyhill  himself, 
which  gave  him  more  pleasure — he  could  not  tell 
why  —  than  even  the  affectionate  spirit  which 
breathed  through  the  other  simple  sentences. 

Mary  Cunningham,  who  by  this  time  had  re- 
turned a  full-blown  young  lady  from  Edinburgh 
to  the  Craiglands,  in  her  walks  round  the  village 
often  called  at  the  cottage,  and  jocundly  chatted 
with  old  Martha  about  Wheelie,  as  she  still  con- 
tinued to  call  him  ;  and,  at  the  time  when  the 
master  was  employed  as  amanuensis  on  this  letter, 
she  happened  to  come  in.  On  being  told  for  whom 
the  letter  was  intended,  she  said,  in  her  light  and 
sprightly  way,  "  Give  my  compliments,  and  say  I 
am  still  waiting,  and  that  he  must  do  all  lie 
can  to  make  his  great  fortune  soon,  or  maybe  I'll 
change  my  mind.  Say  I'll  no  have  him  unless  he 
come  in  his  own  coach-und-four." 


328  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

The  master  was  amused  with  the  freedom  of 
the  playful  rattle,  and  literally  wrote  down  the 
message  as  it  had  been  delivered,  adding  from 
himself,  by  way  of  news,  "William  Cunningham, 
her  brother,  has  gone  into  the  army,  much  to  the 
grief  and  displeasure  of  his  aunt,  who  regarded 
him  as  the  last  of  the  male  line  of  the  family. 
As  for  the  laird,"  continued  the  master,  "he's 
just  dauneriiig  about  the  doors  in  his  old  way, 
with  his  hands,  as  you  first  noticed,  in  his  pouches  ; 
but  he's  a  blameless  body,  and  since  his  last  in- 
crease, by  the  renewed  tacks  x  of  the  Braehead  and 
the  Loupingstane  Farms,  he  has  been  very  kind  to 
the  poor,  having  divided  five  load  of  victual  among 
all  the  needful  in  the  parish." 

While  our  hero  was  reading  this  epistle,  Charles 
Pierston  chanced  to  call,  and  said,  on  hearing  the 
paragraph, — for  he  had  now  begun  to  speak  with 
an  English  accent, — "Why,  this  is  frank  enough." 

"  Hoot,  Charlie,"  replied  Andrew,  "  ye  ken 
very  weel  I  durst  never  even  mysel'  to  Craiglands' 
only  daughter ;  and  ye  may  see  through  her 
blethers  that  she's  making  a  fool  o'  me.  Na,  na, 
man  :  Mary  Cunningham's  setting  her  cap  for  a 
soldier-officer  in  gold  lace.  The  very  sight  of  sic 
a  puddock2  as  me  in  the  capacity  of  a  joe  would 
gar  her  kick  me  ouer  on  my  back  wi'  her  tae." 

"Love  is  blind,"  replied  Pierston;  "and  who 
knows  but  she  may  think  you  a  likely,  handsome 
fellow." 

1  Tacks.     Leases.  -  Puddock.     Frog. 


ENCOURAGEMENT  329 

"If  she  did,"  cried  Andrew,  half  seriously,  "  I 
would  think  her  a  terrible  tawpy  ; l  and  I'm  sure 
I  would  as  soon  stick  a  rose  in  my  bosom  wi'  a 
kailworm  in't,  as  take  the  bonniest  lass  that  ever 
was  seen  for  my  wife,  that  could  be  guilty  o'  ony 
sic  haveril  fancy." 

From  the  time  that  our  hero  had  been  invited 
to  Sandyford  House,  Charles  had  remarked  a 
change  in  his  deportment  for  which  he  could  not 
account,  Andrew  never  having  mentioned  either 
that  circumstance  or  the  masquerade.  It  had, 
however,  the  effect  of  producing  a  feeling  of 
deference  to  his  opinions,  which  he  could  not 
overcome.  Wylie  bore  his  raillery  as  gaily  as 
ever ;  but  there  was  a  self-command,  and  a  pith 
in  some  of  his  observations,  which  begot  a  respect 
that  unconsciously  made  Charles  feel  himself  the 
inferior,  in  spite  of  all  his  fashionable  dash  and 
figure.  This  feeling,  however,  was  unmixed  with 
any  of  that  invidious  alloy  which  the  secret  sense 
of  inferiority  commonly  produces  in  mean  and 
sordid  minds  ;  for  Pierston  was  naturally  frank- 
hearted,  and  there  was  something  in  the  character 
of  his  friend  which  he  liked,  even  while  he  could 
not  restrain  his  disposition  to  laugh  at  him. 

Why  a  youth  in  Andrew's  station  should  have 
concealed  from  his  companion  the  honour  conferred 
on  him  by  Lord  Sandyford,  we  shall  not  attempt 
to  explain.  It  may  be  that  he  thought  Charles 
would  suspect  that  he  had  been  invited  merely  to 
1  Tawpy.  Senseless,  worthless  woman. 


330  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

make  amusement— a  humiliating  consideration — 
or  perhaps,  judging  from  the  ambitious  love  of 
show  in  his  friend,  he  might  apprehend  that 
he  would  tease  him  to  procure  his  admission  to 
the  same  fashionable  parties.  In  either  case  his 
silence  was  prudent ;  and,  if  the  result  of  the 
latter  consideration,  it  did  credit  to  his  sagacity. 
But  this  is  an  abstruse  subject,  and  it  is  quite 
enough  for  us  to  state  the  fact ;  and  also  that, 
for  some  other  good  and  substantial  reason  best 
known  to  himself,  Andrew  also  as  carefully  con- 
cealed from  Charles  the  amount  of  the  extra- 
ordinary salary  which  the  earl  had  so  generously 
obtained  for  him.  This  circumstance  occasioned 
Pierston,  after  the  observation  which  we  have 
quoted,  to  say — 

"  By  the  way,  Andrew,  you  have  never  told  me 
the  amount  of  'the  wage,'  as  you  call  it,  which 
has  enabled  you  to  be  so  liberal  to  your  grand- 
mother. How  much  is  it  ?  " 

"  It's  no  under  a  hundred  pounds,"  replied 
Andrew,  apparently  in  a  careless  manner. 

"  I  doubt,"  said  Charles,  "  if  it  do  not  greatly 
exceed,  the  coach-and-four  will  be  long  of  coming 
forward." 

Andrew  laughed,  and  said,  "  A  plack  wi'  me, 
Charlie,  will  aye  gang  as  far  as  a  pound  wi'  you, 
and  I'm  110  fear't." 

"True,"  cried  Pierston,  "for  I  have  no  Mary 
Cunningham  to  make  me  grip  and  gather." 

"Now,    Charlie,"    again    exclaimed    Andrew   a 


ENCOUR AG  EMENT  3  S 1 

little  pettishly,  "  I  dinna  like  that.  An'  I  were 
her  equal  ye  might  crack  your  jokes ;  but  it's 
no  a  friend's  turn  to  tell  me  in  that  gait  that 
poverty  has  debarred  me  from  looking  so  high, 
even  though  I  had  been  as  braw  and  as  crouse  l 
as  yoursel'." 

"  Upon  my  conscience,"  replied  Pierston,  laugh- 
ing, "  I  had  no  notion  ye  were  so  far  gone.  The 
fellow's  honestly  and  simply  in  love  !  " 

Andrew  reddened,  and  said  sharply,  "  An'  I  were 
sae,  which  I  am  not,  ye  might  spare  me  your  jeers, 
considering  the  impossibilities  between  us." 

"  Poo,  poo!"  cried  Charles.  "  Faint  heart  never 
won  fair  lady ;  and  wit,  which  you  do  not  want, 
both  in  the  stratagems  of  love  and  war,  is  worth  a 
well-turned  leg." 

"  What  taught  you  to  proverb  sae  glibly  the 
auld  tale  o'  Beauty  and  the  Beast  ?  "  said  Andrew, 
not  displeased  by  the  observation.  "  But,  Charlie, 
— to  make  an  end  o'  a'  debate  on  the  subject, — 
ye'll  really  oblige  me  by  never  speaking  o'  Mary 
Cunningham ;  for  ye  ken  as  well  as  I  do  that  no 
lassie  would  be  so  free  wi'  ony  young  lad  if  she 
had  the  least  spunk  of  affection  for  him." 

"  Well,  well ! "  exclaimed  Pierston,  "  but  get 
twenty  thousand  pounds  as  fast  as  ye  can,  and 
then  away  to  the  Craiglands,  where,  if  ye  speak 
auld  crabbit  Miss  Mizy  fair,  I'll  bet  ten  to  one 
that  there  have  been  more  hopeless  speculations 
than  your  chance  with  Mary." 

1  Crouse.     Confident 


332  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Andrew  made  no  answer  for  some  time  to  this, 
but  sat  pursing  his  mouth  for  about  a  minute, 
when  he  said,  "  She  wouldna  tak  me  wi'  twenty 
thousand  pounds,  and  that's  mair  than  I  can  1100 
hope  for." 

"  Noo  !  "  cried  Charles  ;  "  why  noo  ?  What  has 
happened  to  make  the  likelihood  less  than  it 
was  ?  " 

Andrew  had  alluded,  in  his  own  mind,  to  the 
termination  of  all  further  hope  and  expectancy 
with  Lord  Sandyford  ;  but,  not  choosing  to  explain 
himself,  he  said  carelessly,  "  Atweel,  I  dinna  ken 
what  for  I  should  think  mysel'  less  likely  noo  than 
before  of  getting  twenty  thousand  pounds."  And 
with  this  observation  the  interview  ended. 

Pierston,  however,  paid  but  little  regard  to  the 
injunction  with  respect  to  Mary  Cunningham  ;  on 
the  contrary,  he  took  every  opportunity  of  rally- 
ing Andrew  more  and  more.  And  an  event  had 
already  taken  place  that  was  calculated  to  verify 
some  of  the  jocular  predictions  which  he  was  in 
the  practice  of  spoiling  on  the  subject. 


CHAPTER    XLIII 
Insight, 

VJN  the  Sunday  following  after  the  conversa- 
tion described  in  the  preceding  chapter,  Charles 
Pierston  called  again  on  his  friend,  and,  with  a 
look  pregnant  with  merry  mischief,  said,  on  enter- 
ing, "  Now,  Andrew,  ye  must  promise  no  to  be 
angry  with  me,  and  I'll  tell  you  news.  Mary 
Cunningham's  in  London.  Her  brother  has  been 
wounded  in  one  of  the  late  battles,  and  she's  come 
up  with  Miss  Mizy  to  nurse  him ;  for  he's  not  in 
a  condition  to  be  removed  to  Scotland." 

To  have  judged  by  the  expression  of  our  hero's 
countenance,  it  would  not  have  been  thought  that 
he  received  any  pleasure  from  these  tidings ;  for 
he  looked  confused,  and  his  colour  went  and  came. 

"  Poor  Willy  Cunningham,"  said  he,  "  was  a 
clever,  warm-hearted  callan.  I'm  sorry  for  his 
hurt,  and  I  hope  it's  no  deadly." 

"  But  Mary  is  grown  most  beautiful,"  said 
Pierston  waggishly.  "  She  dined  with  her  aunt 
at  my  uncle's  yesterday.  Lord,  Andrew,  man, 
but  ye'll  get  a  prize  an'  ye  get  her  !  She  inquired 
very  kindly  for  you  ;  and  I  promised  to  let  you 


334  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

know  where  they  are  in  lodgings,  for  she  expects 
you  will  call." 

"  I  hae  no  occasion/'  said  Andrew,  with  great 
simplicity. 

"Why,  you  simpleton,  have  you  no  regard  for 
your  old  schoolfellow  ?  I  have  come  on  purpose 
this  morning  to  take  you  with  me.  Cunningham 
Avill  be  glad  to  see  you ;  and  Miss  Mizy  herself 
bade  me  say  that  she  has  long  forgiven  the  devilry 
o'  the  pyet." 

"And  I  hae  forgiven  her,  too,"  replied  Andrew; 
"for  it  was  out  o'  that  I  got  the  fifty  psalms  by 
heart." 

"  And  out  of  that  you  and  Mary  Cunningham 
fell  in  love  behind  the  headstone,  ye  know,"  cried 
Charles,  laughing. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Charlie  Pierston,"  said 
Andrew  seriously  :  "  I  dinna  like  this  daft  nonsense 
of  yours ;  and  I'm  sure  Miss  Cunningham  would 
be  vera  angry  if  she  heard  you  claver  in  that  gait 
about  her.  So  say  no  more  about  it,  unless  ye 
want  to  pick  a  quarrel  wi'  me,  which  I  am  sure 
and  certain  ye  hae  no  intent  to  do." 

"Oh,  very  well !"  exclaimed  Pierston;  "if  you 
don't  like  to  hear  o't,  I'm  sure  it's  no  business 
of  mine  ;  but  Miss  Cunningham  is  a  fine  spirited 
girl,  and,  if  you  don't  make  haste,  she'll  be  taken 
out  of  your  hands." 

"  This  is  wicked  havers,  Charlie,"  cried  Andrew 
in  a  short  and  shrill  peevish  accent,  as  if  he  h;:d 
been  pricked  with  needles.  "I'm  in  110  condition 


INSIGHT  335 

o'  life  to  even  mysel'  to  her,  and  that  should  cork 
your  gab.  But,  howsomever,  I'll  be  glad  to  go 
with  you  to  see  Willy ;  and  I  hope  his  sister  may 
be  out,  for  she's  as  thoughtless  as  yoursel',  and 
ne'er  devalds1  jeering  me." 

"  Then  come  with  me ;  and  if  she  should  be 
out/'  said  Pierston  dryly,  "ye'll  be  able  to  have 
more  talk  with  that  amiable  creature,  Aunty 
Mizy." 

"  De'il's  in  the  fallow  !  I  would  as  soon  meet 
wi'  a  pow-head 2  in  my  porridge  at  ony  time, 
as  wi'  the  auld  red-nebbit  runt ! "  said  Andrew, 
somewhat  restored  to  good-humour,  as  he  pre- 
pared himself  to  go  out  with  Charles. 

Pierston  pretended  to  remark  that  he  seemed 
to  take  a  little  more  pains  than  usual  with  his 
appearance,  and  said,  "  Dear  me,  Andrew,  surely 
ye  never  intend  to  call  on  such  ladies  in  that 
old-fashioned  style  ?  I  thought  by  this  time  you 
would  have  changed  your  tailor,  and  had  a  more 
spruce  coat  for  Sunday." 

"  What's  the  matter  wi'  this  coat,  Charlie  ? " 
said  our  hero  pawkily,  thinking  of  the  parties 
where  it  had  been  often  worn  with  far  more  con- 
sideration than  many  of  the  most  fashionable 
there.  "  There's  no  ae  steek  broken.  Na,  na  :  I 
allow  mysel'  but  ae  new  coat  in  the  year,  and  this 
maun  serve  for  six  months  yet." 

Pierston,  who  was  well  aware  of  the  original 
penury  of  Andrew's  circumstances,  and  respected 
1  D  teal  tin.  Ceases.  -  Pow-luad.  Tadpole. 


336  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  firmness  of  his  character,  did  not  push  his 
raillery  further  on  his  appearance  and  dress.  Had 
he  been  acquainted  with  the  actual  amount  of  his 
income,  however,  he  would  have  despised  him  as 
one  of  the  most  sordid  of  mortals. 

In  their  way  to  Cunningham's  lodgings,  he 
informed  him  that  his  uncle  intended  to  place 
him  in  business  on  his  own  account,  and  hoped 
that  in  time  he  might  have  it  in  his  power  to  be 
of  some  use  to  Andrew.  There  was  both  pride 
and  kindness  in  this ;  but  our  hero  felt  only  the 
warmth  of  the  latter  sentiment. 

In  this  sort  of  conversation  they  reached  Sack- 
ville  Street,  where  they  found  the  Cunninghams 
in  the  second  floor  of  the  same  house  where 
Mordaunt  lodged.  Pierston  was  a  little  mortified 
to  find  them  so  far  aloft,  and  blamed  "the  hain- 
ing1  heart"  of  Miss  Mizy,  alleging  that  it  was 
unworthy  of  people  of  their  fortune  to  be  so 
meanly  accommodated.  Andrew,  without  dis- 
senting from  this  opinion,  was  pleased  with  the 
circumstance ;  because,  by  his  acquaintance  with 
Mordaunt,  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  being 
indirectly  seen,  as  it  were,  by  Mary  Cunningham 
on  a  vantage-ground  that  he  could  riot  otherwise 
have  so  easily  reached.  And  with  a  view  to  this, 
while  he  sent  Charles  upstairs  before  him,  he 
stepped  into  the  drawing-room,  where  Mordaunt 
was  at  the  time  sitting,  engaged  on  some  papers 
connected  with  the  arrangements  for  his  marriage, 

1  Haininy.     Having,  penurious. 


INSIGHT  337 

which  was  to  take  place   in  the   course  of  the 
following  week. 

Mordaunt,  whose  admiration  of  our  hero's  ad- 
dress and  discernment  was  raised  to  the  utmost 
by  the  happy  effects  of  his  remonstrance  with  Sir 
Thomas,  received  him  with  the  greatest  pleasure, 
saying,  "  I  consider  myself,  Wylie,  so  much  in- 
debted to  you  that  I  beg  you  will  count  me 
among  your  friends ;  and  when  at  any  time  you 
can  point  out  in  what  way  it  is  in  my  power  to 
serve  you,  I  trust  and  expect  you  will  claim  the 
fulfilment  of  this  promise." 

At  such  a  time,  and  when  Andrew  was  on  the 
point  of  visiting  Mary  Cunningham,  this  assurance 
came  to  him  like  an  inspiring  air ;  and  he  said, 
"Whenever  the  time  arrived  that  he  might  go 
into  business  on  his  own  account,  he  would  take 
the  freedom  of  then  applying  to  him." 

Mordaunt  on  this  reiterated  his  promise,  and 
declared  that  lie  should  not  only  have  him  for 
a  client,  but  that  he  would  never  lose  a  proper 
occasion  to  speak  of  his  merits  and  abilities. 

Andrew,  Avith  this  assurance  of  prosperity  in 
hereafter,  left  Mordaunt,  and  with  a  light  foot 
mounted  the  stairs  to  the  sitting-room  above ; 
where,  knocking1  with  his  knuckle,  he  Avas  imme- 
diately admitted  by  Mary  Cunningham  herself. 
Charles  Pierston  Avas  in  the  room  with  her ;  and 
it  was  evident,  from  the  excessive  interjections  of 
joy  Avith  Avhich  she  received  him,  that  they  had 
been  contriving  some  mirthful  salutation.  But 

VOL.   I.  A" 


338  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

although,  in  the  first  moment  of  meeting,  this  was 
plainly  the  case,  there  was  in  her  manner,  almost 
immediately  after,  a  sentiment  of  unaffected 
pleasure  towards  him  of  a  more  moderate,  but 
deeper,  kind ;  and  she  treated  him  with  some- 
thing very  like  that  cheerful  and  pure  affection 
which  subsists  between  a  brother  and  a  sister. 
She  expressed  her  satisfaction  that  he  had  been 
so  fortunate  to  obtain  the  goodwill  of  his  master, 
and  spoke  to  him  of  the  love  and  interest  which 
his  grandmother  showed  to  him,  and  of  her  honest 
pride  at  every  little  token  of  his  affection.  But 
there  was  something  like  a  feeling  of  condescen- 
sion in  this  kindness  that  he  liked  less  than  her 
banter.  And  though  more  put  out  of  counte- 
nance, he  was  yet  much  better  pleased,  when  she 
reminded  him  of  several  little  village  anecdotes, 
and  described  his  ludicrous  appearance  behind 
the  tombstone  conning  his  psalms. 

But  this  momentary  embarrassment  was  relieved 
by  the  entrance  of  Miss  Mizy,  who  came  out  of 
Cunningham's  bedroom  with  an  air  of  prodigious 
consequentiality,  addressing  herself  with  a  simper 
to  Pierston,  who  could  with  difficulty  keep  his 
gravity,  while  she  glanced  askance  at  our  hero,  as 
on  a  creature  of  an  inferior  order  of  beings.  Many 
things  had  occurred  to  convert  Andrew's  dislike 
of  Miss  Mizy's  superciliousness  into  contempt ; 
and  with  a  uegree  of  nonchalance  that  neither 
Mary  nor  Pierston  could  withstand,  he  said,  "  Eh 
dear !  Miss  Mizy,  but  ye're  looking  auld-like.  I 


INSIGHT  339 

couldna  hae  thought  that  in  sae  short  a  time  there 
would  hae  been  sic  a  change." 

The  elderly  gentlewoman  did  not  well  know 
what  reply  to  make  to  this  most  irreverent  saluta- 
tion ;  but  at  last  she  said,  tartly,  "  It's  no  the  case 
wi'  thee,  Wheelie,  for  thou's  just  the  same  Avee 
blackent-like  taid  as  when  you  left  the  Stoney- 
holm." 

"Ay,  Miss  Mizy,"  said  Andre\  ,  "neither  you 
nor  me  can  help  our  looks.  We're  baith  made 
by  the  hand  of  God,  and  the  art  o'  man  canna 
mend  us." 

"Thou  was  aye  a  sorrowfu'  laddie,"  cried  Miss 
Mizy,  both  nettled  and  diverted  by  this  address ; 
for,  with  all  her  acrid  humour,  she  was  not  in- 
sensible to  the  influence  of  Andrew's  drollery. 
"  And  they  would  need  lang  spoons  tl>at  sup 
wi'  the  de'il.  Howsomever,  I'm  glad  to  see  thee 
looking  sae  weel,  and  to  hear  o'  thy  weel-doing." 
And  she  then  proposed  that  Andrew  should  ad- 
journ to  see  his  old  schoolfellow. 

Time,  which  had  not  improved  the  charms 
of  Miss  Mizy,  had  wrought  a  great  change  on 
Cunningham.  He  was  grown  into  a  fine  manly 
figure,  and  his  profession  had  brought  out  and 
confirmed  the  bold  and  decisive  features  of  his 
character.  His  wound,  however,  confined  him  to 
his  couch,  and  he  could  only  welcome  Andrew 
with  a  generous  shake  of  the  hand,  expressing 
his  admiration  at  the  unchanged  simplicity  of 
his  appearance. 


340  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

Mary,  who  had  accompanied  our  hero  into  her 
brother's  apartment,  still  harping  on  the  old  theme, 
reminded  them  of  the  pyet-plot,  and  joked  with 
Andrew  on  the  loss  of  his  first  love,  Maggy. 

Experience  of  the  world,  the  freedom,  it  may 
be  the  licentiousness,  of  a  military  life,  had  given 
Cunningham  a  knowledge  of  womankind  above 
his  years,  and  he  looked  sharply  for  a  moment  at 
his  sister  in  such  a  manner  as  brought  a  blush  into 
her  cheek  that  spread  over  her  neck  and  bosom  ; 
nothing,  however,  further  passed,  for  the  necessity 
that  Cunningham  was  under,  on  account  of  his 
wounds,  of  remaining  undisturbed,  obliged  them 
to  leave  the  room,  and  return  to  that  in  which 
Miss  Mizy  and  Pierston  were  sitting.  Andrew  did 
not  resume  his  seat,  but  nodding  a  good  morning, 
moved  to  go  away.  In  turning  round,  his  eye 
caught  several  cards  on  the  mantelpiece  ;  and, 
among  others,  he  observed  an  invitation,  sticking 
ostentatiously  behind  the  glass,  from  his  friend 
the  Duchess  of  Dashingwell ;  but  he  said  nothing. 
The  moment,  however,  that  he  got  into  the  street, 
he  contrived  to  shake  off  Pierston,  and  went  im- 
mediately to  pay  his  respects  to  her  grace. 


CHAPTER    XLIV 

Stratagems. 

.A.NDREW,  from  their  first  meeting,  had  con- 
tinued a  great  favourite  with  the  duchess ;  but 
having,  from  motives  of  delicacy  towards  Lord 
and  Lady  Sandyford,  abstained  from  the  parties 
of  their  friends,  her  grace  began  to  wonder  what 
had  become  of  him,  and  his  reception,  in  conse- 
quence, was  unusually  free  and  cordial.  After  the 
buoyancy  and  gladdenings  of  her  joyous  welcome 
had  subsided,  she  requested  that  he  would  make 
a  point  of  coming  to  her  ball, — the  same  to  which 
Miss  Cunningham  and  her  aunt  were  invited. 

"  I'll  do  that,  my  leddy  duchess,  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,"  was  his  answer ;  "  for  there's 
a  young  lady  frae  the  same  country-side  wi'  me 
that  I  understand  is  likely  to  be  there." 

"  And  pray  who  is  that  ? "  cried  her  grace, 
looking  a  little  slyly,  and  not  a  little  surprised  at 
the  reason. 

"Miss  Cunningham,"  was  the  reply;  and  there 
was  a  degree  of  diffidence  in  the  tone  in  which  it 
was  said  that  still  more  excited  the  curiosity  of 
the  duchess,  who  immediately  exclaimed — 

341 


342  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  On  my  conscience,  Wylie,  you  are  a  man  of 
infinite  taste,  as  well  as  jest.  She  is  very  beau- 
tiful, and  possesses  an  air  of  life  and  fashion 
uncommon  for  a  country  girl." 

"  She's  weel  eneugh  an'  she  be  gude/'  said 
Andrew,  half  blushing,  and  with  an  affected  sim- 
plicity, seemingly  intended  to  parry  the  mirthful 
malice  which  he  saw  her  grace  was  mustering  for 
an  assault,  but  in  reality  to  inveigle  her  into  his 
interests,  for  he  knew  that  the  open  and  blithe 
heartiness  of  her  disposition  would,  if  once  en- 
gaged on  his  side,  make  little  scruple  in  setting 
him  off  to  the  best  advantage. 

"  Why,  Wylie,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  long  have 
you  known  Miss  Cunningham  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ever  since  we  were  bairns  !  " 

"  Bairns  !  "  cried  the  duchess. 

"  It's  a  perfect  truth,"  replied  Andrew  ;  "  her 
father  was  the  laird,  and  I'm  but  a  cottar's  son : 
so  I  wouldna  hae  you  fancy,  because  I  should  be 
glad  to  meet  Miss  Cunningham  at  your  ball,  that 
I  hae  ony  other  motive  than  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
an  old  acquaintance." 

"  If  any  other  being  than  yourself,"  cried  the 
duchess,  "  had  said  so,  I  might  perhaps  have  half 
believed  him ;  but  I  know  you  too  well,  Wylie. 
My  cousin  Mordaunt  has  told  me  what  you  have 
done  for  him,  and  that  Sandyford  writes  you  have 
more  skill  in  the  common  law  of  human  nature 
than  all  the  twelve  judges  have  of  the  laws  of  the 
land ;  so  no  going  about  the  bush  with  me  :  I 


STRATAGEMS  343 

sec  you  are  in  love  with  Miss  Cunningham — that's 
the  perfect  truth." 

"  Weel,  my  leddy  duchess,  an'  I  should  be  sae, 
I  canna  help  it — the  cat  may  look  at  the  king," 
replied  our  hero.  "  But  it's  ae  thing,  your  grace, 
for  a  man  to  admire,  and  another  thing  for  a 
woman  to  admire ;  and  it's  no  reasonable  to  ex- 
pect that  ever  Miss  Cunningham  would  have  any- 
thing more  than  the  kindly  condescension  of  an 
old  friend  towards  me." 

"  Now,  Wylie,"  said  the  duchess  in  a  firmer 
tone,  and  with  a  steady  countenance,  while  her 
eye  playfully  sparkled,  "  I  have  a  great  mind  to  be 
angry.  How  dare  you,  in  this  cunning  manner, 
try  to  make  me  your  confidante  ?  For  you  know 
very  well  that  a  woman,  once  in  the  secret  of 
a  lover,  must  needs  take  a  part.  I  see  through 
your  drift,  friend ;  you  think  if  you  could  get 
the  backing  of  a  duchess  it  might  further  your 
suit." 

"  Your  grace,"  cried  Andrew,  interrupting  her, 
"  is  cutting  far  before  the  point.  I  never  had  ony 
sic  thought,  my  leddy  duchess  ;  and  I  think,  con- 
sidering who  I  am,  and  what  Miss  Cunningham 
is,  we  have  sported  in  this  matfer  a  wee  thought 
ouer  muckle." 

It  can  scarcely  be  questioned  that  her  grace 
was  right  in  her  conjecture,  and  that  Andrew  was 
actuated  by  a  wish  to  lessen,  in  the  opinion  of  his 
mistress,  the  disparity  which  he  felt  so  deeply ; 
but  that  he  should  have  presumed  to  suppose  that 


344  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

a  lady  of  the  duchess's  rank  would  ever  be 
brought  to  take  any  interest  or  to  feel  any  sym- 
pathy in  his  case,  at  first  sight  appears  highly 
ridiculous.  He  had,  however,  seen  enough  of 
the  world  to  know  that  below  a  certain  degree 
the  great  make  no  distinctions  of  rank,  and  that 
the  laird  of  Craiglands'  daughter  and  the  cottar's 
son,  considered  fi-om  such  an  elevated  pinnacle  of 
nobility  as  that  of  her  grace,  would  seem  to  stand 
on  no  very  striking  inequality  of  either  rank  or 
condition.  Besides,  he  was  fully  aware  that  the 
familiarity  with  which  he  had  been  always  treated 
by  the  duchess  had  entirely  stifled  any  sentiment 
which  the  humbleness  of  his  birth  might  perhaps, 
in  an  earlier  stage  of  their  intercourse,  have  occa- 
sioned to  his  disadvantage.  But,  whether  we  are 
attributing  to  him  more  machiavelism  than  he 
really  practised,  or  ascribing  to  the  duchess  more 
discernment  than  she  possessed,  it  is  certain  that 
the  result  was  in  consonance  with  what  we  have 
stated  of  both ;  for  her  grace  found  herself  irre- 
sistibly engaged  in  his  behalf;  and  from  this  con- 
versation, after  leaving  the  duchess,  he  seemed  to 
be  animated  with  a  new  spirit,  the  first  manifesta- 
tion of  which  was  in  ordering  a  new  suit  of  clothes, 
with  strict  injunctions  to  make  them  of  the  very 
finest  cloth,  and  in  the  neatest  manner  possible, 
and  a  little  more  in  the  fashion  than,  the  cut 
of  those  he  always  wore,  which  were  the  exact 
counterpart  of  the  suit  he  had  originally  brought 
from  Stoneyholm. 


STRATAGEMS  345 

In  this  new  suit,  on  the  night  appointed,  he 
made  his  appearance  at  the  ball.  The  duchess, 
with  that  sharp  eye  which  the  ladies  always  have 
to  the  appearance  of  the  gentlemen,  saw,  at  the 
first  glance,  the  change  in  his  garb,  and  said  that 
she  suspected  Miss  Cunningham's  interest  and 
influence  had  been  already  beneficial  to  his  tailor. 
At  that  moment  Mary  was  announced,  and  en- 
tered the  room  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  aunt. 
In  approaching  towards  the  duchess,  she  was  so 
startled  at  seeing  Andrew  at  her  grace's  side,  and 
on  terms  of  such  familiarity,  that  she  became 
confused,  and  blushed,  and  seemed  utterly  at  a 
loss  to  express  the  few  simple  commonplaces  re- 
quisite for  the  occasion. 

The  keen-sighted  duchess  saw  her  confusion, 
and  gave  Andrew  a  pinch  between  the  shoulders ; 
while,  with  her  wonted  urbanity,  she  said,  "  My 
dear  Miss  Cunningham,  I  am  so  rejoiced  you  are 
come ;  for  my  friend,  Mr  Wylie  here,  has  been 
beseeching  me  to  get  him  a  partner  for  the  next 
dance  so  earnestly  that  I  was  driven  to  my  wit's 
end.  He  is  such  a  creature  that,  unless  he  obtains 
one  of  the  very  finest  women  wherever  he  goes, 
he  will  not  dance  at  all." 

Miss  Mizy,  who  during  this  speech  had  recog- 
nised Andrew,  stooped  forward  and  pried,  as  it 
were,  into  his  face,  with  such  curious  ama/ement 
that  he  could  with  difficulty  keep  his  gravity, 
while  he  said,  "  Dear  me,  Miss  Mi/y,  is  that  you  ? 
I  thought  your  dancing  days  were  past." 


346  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

"  I  declare,"  cried  Miss  Mizy,  turning  round 
to  her  niece,  and  stretching  herself  up  into  the 
most  lofty  posture  of  consequentially,  "  it's  that 
whittret l  Wylie  ! " 

Mary  by  this  time  had  a  little  recovered  the 
emotion  of  her  first  surprise  ;  and  while  she  clung, 
as  it  were  alarmed,  to  her  aunt,  in  passing  from 
the  duchess  she  said,  "Wheelie,  I'll  be  as  plain 
as  I'm  pleasant :  mind,  you're  no  to  expect  me  to 
dance  with  you." 

"  It's  vera  weel  o'  you,  Miss  Mary,"  replied 
Andrew  pawkily,  "  to  tak  the  first  word  o'  flyting  ;  2 
but  ye  should  first  ken  whether  ye're  come  up  to 
my  mark  or  no." 

Mary  bit  her  lips  and  blushed.  There  was  a 
confidence  in  this  retort  that  made  her  feel  the 
inferiority  of  her  feminine  bravery ;  and,  for  the 
first  time,  she  was  affected  with  an  indescribable 
embarrassment  towards  Andrew.  He,  however, 
continued  at  her  side ;  and,  as  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
guests,  Miss  Mizy  was  delighted  they  had  fallen 
in  with  him  ;  for,  unaccustomed  to  large  and 
general  companies,  she  was  peculiarly  suscep- 
tible to  that  disagreeable  feeling  of  insignificance 
which  the  unknown  multitudes  of  London  uni- 
formly awaken  in  strangers  from  the  country. 

When  Andrew  had  paraded  the  rooms  with 
them  for  some  time,  and  enjoyed  his  ovation,  he 
inquired  of  Mary  if  she  was  really  disposed  to 
1  Whittret.  Weasel  -  Flijtluy.  Scolding. 


STRATAGEMS  347 

dance,  saying,  "  I  ken  vera  weel  that  ye  dinna 
like  to  hae  sic  a  wee  smytch  l  o'  a  partner  as  me ; 
but,  for  auld  lang  syne,  I'll  get  you  a  partner." 

By  this  time  the  lady's  pride  was  a  little  cowed, 
and  she  hesitated  in  her  answer. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Andrew,  "  ye  rieedna  be  on  any 
ceremony  wi'  me ;  for,  in  truth,  I  never  dance ; 
so  I'll  let  you  aff  for  the  partnership  of  her  grace's 
making." 

There  was  something  in  the  manner  in  which 
this  was  said,  and  in  the  look  which  accompanied 
the  words,  that  brought  the  crimson  into  Miss 
Cunningham's  face. 

"What  are  ye  saying?"  exclaimed  Miss  Mizy, 
observing  the  confusion  of  her  niece. 

"  Oh,  naething,"  replied  Andrew,  "  but  that  I'll 
get  Miss  Mary  another  partner,  which  will  leave 
me  free  to  dance  the  Scotch  measure  or  the 
Blackamoor's  jig  wi'  you,  Miss  Mizy.  Eh  !  what 
a  wonder  it  will  be  to  a'  the  company  to  see 
you  and  me  louping  and  flinging  like  the  witches 
in  Alloway  Kirk  ! "  And  after  these  words  he 
scudded  from  them  through  the  crowd  towards 
a  young  nobleman  with  whom  he  was  acquainted, 
equally  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  his  person, 
his  self-conceit,  and  shallow  understanding,  and 
inquired  if  he  would  dance  with  Miss  Cun- 
ningham. Mary's  appearance  had  by  this  time 
attracted  the  attention  of  all  the  men ;  and  Lord 
Dimpleton,  delighted  with  the  proposal,  imme- 
1  Smutch.  Small  chit. 


348  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

diately  went  with  Andrew,  and  was  introduced  to 
the  ladies. 

In  choosing  such  a  partner,  it  is  not  to  be 
doubted  that  Andrew  had  consideration  for  his 
lordship's  endowments ;  for  in  the  selection  he 
paid  a  compliment  to  the  discernment  of  his 
mistress,  with  whom,  according  to  the  estimate  he 
had  formed  of  her  judgment  and  sense,  he  judged 
that  neither  the  rank  nor  the  personal  appearance 
of  the  young  baron  would  have  any  prejudicial 
influence  on  his  own  pretensions — pretensions  for 
the  first  time  felt  on  that  evening. 

Nothing  else  particularly  occurred  during  the 
remainder  of  the  night.  The  two  ladies,  on  ac- 
count of  Cunningham's  illness,  retired  early,  and 
next  day,  when  Andrew  called,  Mary  was  cool 
and  distant  towards  him ;  while  her  aunt,  on  the 
contrary,  received  him  with  marked  attention,  ex- 
pressing her  wonder  and  surprise  to  have  found 
him  such  a  favourite  among  so  many  of  the 
nobility.  But  all  the  pleasure  he  derived  from 
the  altered  manners  of  Miss  Mizy  was  far  more 
than  overbalanced  by  the  cold  decorum  of  Mary  ; 
for  he  perceived  that  it  was  the  result  of  some 
secret  reflection,  and  that  the  change  was  not 
favourable  to  his  wishes.  In  one  respect,  how- 
ever, it  was  not  discouraging  ;  for  it  seemed  to 
imply  that  she  no  longer  considered  the  difference 
in  their  condition  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to 
the  gratification  of  those  wishes  which  he  had 
now  seriously  begun  to  entertain. 


STRATAGEMS  340 

During  the  remainder  of  the  time  that  the 
Cunninghams  stayed  in  London,  Andrew  fre- 
quently called  ;  but  no  alteration  took  place  in 
the  studied  reserve  of  Mary,  nor  did  he  appear 
in  any  instance  to  presume  one  step  further  than 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  take.  Towards  Miss 
Mizy,  however,  his  behaviour  had  evidently  en- 
tirely altered.  He  took  every  opportunity  of 
soothing  her  humour,  and  flattering  her  in  all  the 
tenderest  and  most  vulnerable  parts  of  her  char- 
acter, till  she  was  thoroughly  persuaded  that  he 
was  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  discerning  of 
mankind :  an  opinion  which  she  peremptorily 
asserted  whenever  Mary  affected  in  his  absence 
to  ridicule  his  person  or  manners ;  adding  to  the 
assertion  an  emphatic  prediction  that  she  was 
sure  he  would  be  ordained  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don, for  he  was  in  a  far  more  likely  road  to 
the  post  than  Whittington  when  "greeting  wi' 
his  cat  in  his  arms." 


CHAPTER    XLV 

The  Forest. 

_L  OR  some  time  after  the  Cunninghams  left 
London,  nothing  particular  occurred  to  our  hero. 
He  attended  his  duty  as  usual  at  chambers,  and 
frequently  the  parties  of  his  fashionable  friends. 
The  marriage  of  Mordaunt  took  place  at  the  time 
appointed ;  and,  in  addition  to  a  renewal  of  his 
promise  to  give  Andrew  his  business  when  he 
commenced  on  his  own  account,  Sir  Thomas 
Beauchamp  himself  assured  him  that  he  might 
likewise  count  him  among  his  friends,  and  claim 
his  best  offices  as  soon  as  they  could  be  of  any 
use.  But  no  incident  gave  him  more  pleasure 
than  a  letter  from  Lord  Sandyford  requesting  him 
to  come  to  Chastington  Hall  for  a  few  days,  an 
invitation  which  Mr  Vellum  cheerfully  allowed 
him  to  accept. 

The  object  which  the  earl  had  in  view  in 
wishing  to  see  him  was  with  reference  to  a  settle- 
ment which  he  intended  to  make  on  the  countess, 
but,  for  some  reason  that  he  never  explained, 
wished  to  be  kept  secret  even  from  Vellum. 

Andrew  was  never  fond  of  travelling  post,  nor 

350 


THE  FOREST  351 

was  he  more  satisfied  with  the  perilous  velocity 
of  stage-coaches.  In  his  jaunt  to  Chastington 
Hall,  therefore,  he  resolved  to  take  his  own  way. 
Accordingly,  in  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day's 
journey,  as  he  intended  to  sleep  that  night  at  the 
seat  of  Mordaunt,  to  whose  happiness  he  had  so 
essentially  contributed,  he  left  the  coach  in  which 
he  came  from  London,  and  walked  forward  alone  ; 
his  portmanteau  .being,  with  many  injunctions, 
entrusted  to  the  care  of  the  guard,  to  be  left  at 
the  Sandyford  Arms,  the  public-house  at  the  park- 
gate  of  Chastington  Hall. 

His  road  lay  through  an  open  forest,  along  the 
bottom  of  a  range  of  hills  beautifully  covered 
with  verdure,  but,  except  where  here  and  there 
sprinkled  with  sheep,  lonely  and  silent.  The 
fantastic  forms  of  some  of  the  old  trees  were 
calculated  to  awaken  romantic  fancies ;  while  the 
pastoral  tranquillity  of  the  hills  had  a  sympathetic 
influence  on  the  mind,  and  disposed  the  passing 
traveller  to  something  like  a  sense  of  awe. 

As  Andrew  was  onward  plodding  his  solitary 
way,  he  happened,  in  one  of  the  thickest  parts  of 
the  wood,  to  observe  a  troop  of  gipsies  encamped 
at  the  foot  of  a  spacious  oak,  to  a  branch  of  which 
they  had  fastened  a  rope  that  suspended  their 
kettle.  An  old  and  withered  hag,  in  a  red  cloak, 
- — the  ancestress,  as  she  seemed,  of  the  whole 
gang, — was  seated  near  the  kettle,  endeavouring 
with  her  mouth  to  blow  into  flame  a  few  sticks 
and  splinters  which  she  had  placed  under  it.  At 


352  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

her  side  stood  a  knavish  black-eyed  urchin  peeling 
onions ;  while  at  some  distance  a  younger  female, 
the  mother  of  the  boy,  was  picking  the  feathers 
from  a  goose  that  had  been  missed  that  morning 
from  the  flock  of  Justice  Stocks  on  Ganderfield 
Common.  A  child  about  twelve  months  old  was 
standing  near  the  grandmother,  in  a  wattled 
frame,  somewhat  like  a  fowl-basket  in  shape,  but 
without  top  or  bottom  ;  some  ten  or  a  dozen  yards 
farther  off  lay  a  stout  ill-favoured  young  man, 
in  ragged  regimentals,  asleep  on  the  ground,  his 
head  resting  on  the  root  of  a  tree ;  while  an  old 
churl  was  engaged  in  unloading  a  rude  cart,  from 
which  an  ass  had  been  unyoked,  that  a  stui'dy  lad 
was  dragging  by  a  hair-tether  towards  a  richer 
rug  of  grass  and  herbage  than  covered  the  spot 
where  they  had  fixed  their  temporary  domicile. 

Andrew,  who  had  no  great  affection  for  vagrants 
of  any  kind,  was  not  at  all  comfortable  when  he 
discovered  these,  and  tried  to  walk  hastily  and 
softly  past  them ;  but  the  boy  Avho  was  peeling 
the  onions  happened  to  discover  him,  and  Avas  at 
his  side  in  a  moment,  most  pathetically  imploring 
charity.  Our  hero  affected  not  to  notice  him, 
but  hastened  on,  which  quickened  the  boy's  im- 
portunity to  such  a  degree  that  it  could  be 
no  longer  resisted.  It  happened,  howevei',  that 
Andrew  had  no  smaller  change  than  silver ;  and 
in  his  trepidation,  mistaking  half-a-crown  for  a 
penny-piece,  astonished  the  beggar  by  his  liber- 
ality. The  gipsy,  in  a  transport  of  joy,  returned 


THE  FOREST  35.'J 

shouting  to  headquarters  ;  and,  to  the  horror  of 
Andrew,  who  gave  a  hurried  backward  glance, 
the  whole  gang  were  assembled  round  the  boy, 
and  looking  towards  him.  "  They  will  think 
me,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  made  of  money,  and 
they'll  pursue  and  murder  me."  The  thought 
lent  wings  to  his  heels ;  and  the  moment  that  a 
turn  of  the  wood  concealed  him  from  the  view  of 
the  gipsies,  he  ran -at  full  speed  till  he  was  out  of 
breath. 

By  the  time  he  had  recovered  the  immediate 
effects  of  his  race,  the  sun  had  declined  to  the 
horizon,  and  the  skies,  with  that  uncertainty  of 
weather  which  prevails  iri  the  fall  of  the  year, 
were  clouded  and  overcast.  No  habitation  was  in 
sight ;  and  as  the  road  had  proved  more  long  and 
lonely  (to  say  nothing  of  the  gipsies)  than  was 
expected,  he  began  to  fear  he  was  destined  to  be 
overtaken  by  the  night.  This  was  not  at  all  a 
comfortable  apprehension,  nor  was  it  cheered  by 
a  flash  of  lightning,  slowly  followed  by  deep  and 
muttering  thunder  that  grumbled  heavily  behind 
the  hills. 

"  What  shall  I  do  if  the  rain  comes  on  before 
I  get  to  biggit  land  ?  "  said  our  disconsolate  ad- 
venturer, eyeing  the  threatening  heavens.  The 
lightning  flashed  in  his  face,  and  the  thunder 
instantly  rattled  such  a  peal  that  he  ran  cowering 
along  as  if  the  vault  and  rafters  of  the  skies  were 
tumbling  about  his  ears.  This  sudden  clap  was 
immediately  succeeded  by  large  drops  of  rain. 


354  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

On  the  one  side  Andrew  beheld  only  the  darken- 
ing hills,  bare  and  dreary,  and  on  the  other  the 
forest,  full  of  fantastic  shapes  and  shadows.  The 
lightning  grew  more  frequent,  and  the  thunder 
rolled  louder  and  louder.  The  whole  wrelkin  was 
filled  with  blackness,  and  the  gloom  of  night 
invested  every  object  long  before  the  natural 
time.  Still,  however,  the  rain  held  off,  except  an 
occasional  scattering  of  broad  and  heavy  drops, 
which  indicated  with  what  a  deluge  the  clouds 
were  loaded. 

There  was  no  time  for  reflection,  but  only  for 
speed  ;  and  as  Andrew  hastened  on,  he  discovered, 
by  the  frequent  gleams  of  the  lightning,  that  the 
forest  was  left  behind,  that  the  hills  receded,  and 
that  his  road  lay  across  an  extensive  common. 
This  circumstance  did  not  in  itself  disturb  him ; 
but  soon  after  he  found  that  he  had  strayed  from 
the  path  and  was  walking  on  the  grass.  He  tried 
to  regain  the  road ;  but,  in  doubt  whether  it  lay 
on  the  right  or  the  left,  in  the  search  he  went 
still  more  and  more  astray  ;  and  the  rain  beginning 
to  descend  in  torrents,  his  heart  sank  within  him. 
In  this  juncture  he  discovered,  by  a  gleam  of 
lightning,  a  large  tree  at  some  distance ;  and 
impelled  by  the  immediate  instinct  which  the 
rain  awakened,  he  forgot  the  danger  of  such  a 
shelter  in  such  a  storm,  and  ran  towards  it. 
Scarcely,  however,  had  he  taken  twenty  steps, 
when,  in  the  midst  of  a  fearful  flash,  the  tree  was 
riven  into  splinters  by  a  thunder-bolt. 


CHAPTER    XLVI 
Hospitality. 

xYNDREW,  for  some  time  after  the  tree  had 
been  shivered  into  splinters,  stood  like  a  statue. 
Drenched  to  the  skin,  and  astray,  he  had  no 
alternative,  when  he  recovered  from  his  conster- 
nation, but  to  walk  straight  forward.  He  had 
not,  however,  advanced  many  paces  till  he  found 
his  perplexity  increased,  and  his  feet  bewildered 
among  rushes  and  sedges,  and  environed  with  the 
perils  of  a  morass.  Perhaps  his  fears  augmented 
the  danger,  and  it  was  only  the  effects  of  the 
heavy  and  sudden  rain  that  he  mistook  for  a 
marsh  ;  but  the  water  deepened  when  he  at- 
tempted to  advance,  and  he  was  glad  to  retrace 
his  steps. 

Completely  wet,  and  almost  overwhelmed  by 
despair,  he  quitted  the  borders  of  the  morass, 
and,  with  a  sort  of  instinctive,  or  rather  irrational, 
precipitancy,  he  ran  from  it  till  he  was  again 
stopped  by  the  noise  of  a  river  before  him,  so 
loud  that  he  could  not  but  fear  it  was  dee]), 
strong,  and  rapid,  swollen  as  it  was  into  fury  by 
the  torrents  from  the  hills. 


356  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

This  was  even,  he  thought,  more  appalling 
than  the  oak  shivered  by  the  lightning ;  and, 
under  an  immediate  pressure  of  despair  in  the 
moment,  he  sat  down  upon  a  stone,  which  he 
afterwards  described  as  the  head  and  corner-stone 
of  his  sufferings  in  that  night.  He  had  not  been 
long  seated  when  he  discovered  a  light  at  some 
distance.  It  was  low,  dim,  and  red ;  but  it  was 
to  him  like  the  hospitable  eye  of  a  friend,  and  he 
rose  and  walked  cautiously  towards  it.  In  a  short 
time  he  found  himself  again  in  the  forest,  and 
still  the  light  was  beaming  and  alluring  him 
forward ;  and  the  rain  having  passed  off,  he  felt, 
although  dripping  with  wet,  more  and  more  con- 
fidence as  he  advanced. 

As  he  walked  in  a  straight  line,  his  path  was 
rugged  and  uneven,  and  in  many  places  inter- 
rupted with  brambles,  through  which,  however, 
he  resolutely  forced  his  way,  afraid,  if  he  deviated 
to  the  one  side  or  the  other,  he  might  lose  sight 
of  the  light.  By  this  constancy  of  perseverance, 
in  the  course  of  a  short  time  he  reached  near 
enough  to  see  that  it  was  a  fire,  around  which 
several  persons, — men,  women,  and  children, — 
were  seated  ;  and  pressing  still  on,  lie  at  length 
discovered  a  stew-kettle  hanging  from  a  bough, 
and  recognised  his  old  acquaintances  the  gipsies. 

This  recognition  did  not  at  first  produce  any 
very  agreeable  emotions ;  but  the  horrors  of  the 
thunder-storm  had  somewhat  changed  his  mood. 
I!e  was  cold,  and  weary,  and  wet.  He  was  also 


HOSPITALITY  3;>7 

not  altogether  free  from  the  pains  of  hunger. 
The  fire  burned  brightly ;  the  flames  flickeringly 
climbed  the  sides  of  the  pot,  as  if  they  would  have 
gladly  tasted  its  savoury  contents,  that  fumed  in  a 
steamy  vapour  to  the  boughs ;  while  the  gipsies 
around  were  drying  their  rags  at  the  fire,  and 
smiling  cheerfully  to  one  another,  their  sparkling 
eyes  and  brightening  faces  giving  an  assurance  of 
innocent  thoughts  and  free  dispositions. 

The  boy  who  had  won  the  half-crown  was  the 
first  who  discovered  Andrew,  and,  coming  hastily 
forward,  immediately  recognised  him.  Danger 
had  taught  our  hero  address,  and  before  the  boy  had 
time  to  say  anything,  lie  stepped  briskly  to  the 
group,  and  said,  "  Honest  folk,  can  ye  assist  a  poor 
wayfaring  man  that  has  missed  the  road,  drookit l 
to  the  skin,  and  little  able  to  gang  farther  ?  " 

The  gipsies  immediately  opened  their  circle 
and  made  room  for  him  by  the  fire  ;  and,  after 
some  unknown  jabber  among  themselves,  the 
stripling  whom  we  have  mentioned  as  leading 
the  ass  rose  and  went  to  the  cart,  from  which  he 
returned  with  a  bottle  that  he  offered  to  Andrew, 
telling  him  it  was  brandy,  and  to  take  a  suck. 
The  offer  did  not  require  the  aid  of  much  per- 
suasion ;  and  in  drawing  his  breath,  after  having 
swallowed  a  modicum,  our  hero  thought  the 
gipsies  very  civilised  kind  of  creatures. 

Somewhat  invigorated  by  the  brandy,  and  his 
clothes  beginning  to  dry,  he  entered  into  con- 
1  Druokit.  Drenched. 


358  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

versation  with  them,  inquiring  how  far  he  was 
from  any  place  where  he  could  obtain  shelter. 
They  told  him  that  there  was  a  village  about 
two  miles  off  within  the  forest ;  and  the  young 
fellow  in  the  old  regimentals  offered  to  conduct 
him  thither  after  supper.  In  the  meantime,  the 
grandmother,  who  had  frequently  tasted  the  soup 
with  a  wooden  ladle,  at  length  declared  it  ready ; 
and  the  kettle  was  untied  from  the  rope  and 
placed  on  the  ground.  Horn  spoons  were  then 
distributed,  and  our  hero  invited  to  partake.  The 
soup  was  eaten  immediately  from  the  seething 
kettle,  each  of  the  company  blowing  to  cool  it  as 
he  carried  it  to  his  mouth.  In  this  manner  the 
broth  was  consumed ;  and  slices  of  bread  being 
distributed,  the  goose  was  torn  in  pieces,  and  the 
parts  seized  at  random.  The  old  man,  however, 
presented  Andrew  with  a  leg ;  and  he,  in  his  turn, 
won  the  hearts  of  the  women  by  giving  the 
youngest  child  a  bone  to  suck  from  his  own  mouth. 
It  was  this  happy  facility  of  adapting  himself  to 
the  manners  of  those  among  whom  he  happened 
to  be  placed  that  so  wonderfully  shaped  his 
fortune.  The  gipsies,  whom  he  had  so  greatly 
dreaded,  not  only  treated  him  with  kindness,  but 
the  fellow  whose  appearance  seemed  almost  too 
uncouth  for  humanity  was  delighted  in  being 
afforded  an  opportunity  of  repaying  the  confidence 
which  he  seemed  to  have  reposed  in  them. 

When  supper  was  over,  the  regimentalled  gipsy 
accordingly  renewed  his  offer  to  conduct  our  hero 


HOSPITALITY  359 

to  the  village  ;  and  Andrew,  in  a  glow  of  thankful- 
ness, augmented  by  the  generous  effect  of  finding 
so  much  of  the  kindliness  of  human  nature  among 
a  troop  of  vagrants,  whom  he  considered  as  the 
most  depraved  of  the  species,  distributed  among 
them  a  handful  of  uncounted  silver,  the  first  un- 
reckoned  money  he  had  ever  expended. 

After  the  storm,  the  moon  looked  from  her 
window  in  the  cloud  to  tell  the  travellers  who 
had  gone  into  shelter  that  they  might  resume 
their  journey,  and  our  hero,  with  the  gipsy,  went 
towards  the  village. 

"You  will  find  but  sorry  quarters  there,"  said 
the  guide.  "  The  only  person  who  can  give  you 
warm  ones  is  the  parson ;  and  he  won't.  The 
never  a  one  does  he  fodder ;  but  for  that,  his 
goslings  are  thin  on  the  common,  and  his  capons 
are  at  feast  before  they  are  fattened.  How- 
somever,  we'll  pull  his  latch  and  try  his  heart. 
But  that  you  must  do ;  for  were  I  seen  within  his 
paling,  the  hemp  is  not  to  spin  that  would  purse 
my  throttle." 

As  soon  as  the  gipsy  showed  the  parson's  gate, 
Andrew  said  to  him,  "  Maybe,  young  man,  I  may 
hae  it  in  my  power  to  do  as  good  a  turn  as  this 
for  you  some  time,  if  ye'll  let  me  know  when." 
And  he  gave  him  his  card  and  wished  him  good- 
night. 

It  was  now  far  in  the  evening;  but  the  candles 
were  still  burning  bright  in  the  parlour  of  l)r 
Saffron  when  our  hero  ran'_r  the  bell  ;it  the  jrate. 


360  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

A  watch-dog,  with  an  audible  bay,  answered  the 
summons,  and  soon  after  a  servant  in  homely 
livery  opened  the  door  and  inquired  who  was 
there. 

"Tell  your  master,  my  lad,"  was  the  reply, 
"that  a  young  man,  in  great  need  of  a  night's 
lodging,  would  be  obliged  to  him  for  a  bed." 

"  Tell  the  fellow  to  go  about  his  business !  " 
exclaimed  a  gruff  corpulent  voice  from  within, 
whose  accents  were  scarcely  more  civil  than  those 
of  the  mastiff. 

"  I  have  no  other  business  at  this  time,  reverend 
sir,  and  ye  had  as  weel  let  me  in  ;  for  my  claes 
are  damp  and  my  legs  are  weary,  and  it  will  no 
be  telling  you  if  onything  ails  me  at  your  door," 
replied  our  hero. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  What  are  you  ?  "  cried  the 
doctor,  showing  forth  his  plump  red  visage, 
crowned  with  a  white  nightcap,  from  behind 
the  door,  and  holding  a  candle  in  his  hand. 

"  I  am  a  bewildered  Christian,"  said  Andrew 
slyly,  "  that  was  overtaken  by  the  storm,  and  glad 
to  ask  help  of  a  gang  of  houseless  gipsy  vagrants 
that  treated  me  with  great  discretion.  Your 
reverence  will  no  surely  be  more  uncircumcised 
than  gipsies  ?  " 

"  But  what  are  you  ? "  cried  the  doctor  more 
earnestly,  coming  out  into  full  view. 

"  I'm  by  profession  in  the  law,"  replied  Andrew, 
"and  was  only  passing  through  this  part  of  the 
country." 


HOSPITALITY  361 

"  Have  you  no  horse,  no  carriage  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  parson. 

"  I  have  nothing  of  the  sort/'  was  the  reply. 
"  In  truth,  sir,  ye  never  had  a  better  opportunity 
to  do  a  ceevil  thing  in  your  life  than  to  take  me 
in  who  am  a  stranger  in  this  land." 

"  It  is  a  bold  request  to  come  to  any  gentle- 
man's door  and  demand  quarters  in  this  manner," 
replied  the  doctor ;  and  he  was  on  the  point  of 
ordering  the  footman  to  come  in  and  shut  the 
door,  when  our  hero,  apprehensive  of  prolonging 
the  conversation  in  this  way  a  little  too  much, 
said,  "  It's  vera  true,  doctor,  what  you  say ;  but  it 
was  all  owing  to  a  freak  of  mine.  I  am  going  into 
the  west,  on  a  visit  to  the  Earl  of  Sandyford, 
and  was  to  have  taken  my  bed  to-night  witli  Mr 
Mordaunt  of  Beech  Grove,  in  this  neighbourhood. 
Beguiled  by  the  fine  afternoon,  I  was  enticed  to 
walk  from  the  last  stage.  The  storm  overtook 
me,  and  here  I  am  at  your  merciful  hospitality." 

There  was  something  in  this  that  the  doctor 
liked  better  than  the  previous  conversation,  and 
he  requested  him  to  come  in.  The  appearance  of 
our  hero,  at  all  times  rather  odd  than  prepos- 
sessing, somewhat  startled  the  rector,  who  soon, 
however,  discovered,  notwithstanding  his  homely 
exterior,  that  he  was  accustomed  to  good  society. 
The  conversation  having  led  to  a  few  further 
explanations,  the  parlour-bell  was  rung,  and  the 
servant  ordered  to  get  a  bed  prepared  for  the 
stranger. 


CHAPTER   XLVII 

Explanations. 

JL  HE  Reverend  Doctor  Saffron,  into  whose  hospi- 
table mansion  our  hero  had  been  received,  ques- 
tioned him  in  rather  a  particular  manner  as  to  the 
situation  of  Lord  and  Lady  Sandyford.  Wylie 
was  struck  with  this  circumstance,  and  it  excited 
his  curiosity  to  ascertain  the  cause. 

"  It's  no  easy  to  say  what's  their  situation/'  was 
his  wary  reply ;  "  but  I'm  thinking  they  are  some 
friends  of  yours." 

"  No,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  but  I  have  heard  that 
an  unfortunate  nephew  of  mine  is  deeply  impli- 
cated in  what  has  happened  between  them." 

"  Ay  !  "  exclaimed  Andrew,  "  so  ye're  uncle  to 
that  slippery  blade,  Ferrers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  the  sorrow  and  misfortune.  His 
mother  was  my  only  sister,  and  he  is  properly  my 
heir ;  but  for  some  time  his  conduct  has  been  so 
extravagant,  and  his  mind  so  unsettled,  that  I  fear 
he  will  constrain  me  to  cancel  the  obligations  of 
nature  and  affection." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  said  our  hero. 

"  That   I   cannot  answer,"    replied   the   doctor. 

362 


EXPLANATIONS  3G3 

"  I  would  give  much  to  know ;  for  this  very 
afternoon  I  received  a  letter  from  one  of  his 
friends,  the  contents  of  which  have  greatly  dis- 
tressed me.  He  has  not  been  seen  in  London  for 
some  time,  and  no  one  of  his  acquaintance  there 
can  tell  what  has  become  of  him." 

"  That's  very  distressing,  sir,  very  distressing 
indeed  !  "  observed  Andrew  thoughtfully  ;  and  he 
then  added,  "  The  last  account  AVC  had  o'  him  was 
his  being  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Elderbower 
with  the  countess." 

"  Possibly  he  may  still  be  with  her — where  is 
she  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor. 

"No,"  replied  Andrew,  "her  leddyship  is  no 
just  left  so  far  to  hersel'.  Ever  since  the  dis- 
covery, she  has  been  living  a  very  penitent  life  in 
one  of  her  father's  old  castles,  where  ravens  and 
howlets  are  the  only  singing-birds  she  can  bide 
to  hearken  to.  Maybe  Mr  Ferrers  has  fled  the 
country." 

"  According  to  his  friend's  account,  that  is 
not  likely  to  be  the  case,  for  his  means  were  en- 
tirely drained  :  he  had  lost  everything,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  Indeed,  the  occasion  of  the  inquiry  re- 
specting him  is  of  such  a  nature  that  nothing  but 
the  most  extreme  ruin  could  have  given  rise  to  it." 

"  It's  a  sore  thing  to  have  ill-doing  friends. 
But  I  trust  and  hope  that  he's  no  under  hidings 
for  anything  worse  than,  his  cuckooing." 

The  doctor  looked  severely  at  the  levity  of  this 
expression;  but  he  added,  with  emphasis,  "There 


364  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

are  sins  which  deeply  injure  society,  more  venial 
than  crimes  of  far  less  turpitude.  Nothing  but 
actual  insanity  can  palliate  Ferrers'  ofTeiice." 

"I'm  concerned  to  hear't.  What  is't?"  said 
Andrew,  drawing  his  chair  a  little  closer  to  the 
doctor,  and  looking  earnest  and  grieved. 

"  He  abandoned  an  Italian  girl  who  lived  with 
him,  and  left  her  on  the  eve  of  becoming  a 
mother,  almost  literally  without  a  shilling.  Over- 
whelmed with  the  sense  of  her  situation  and 
poverty,  she  rashly  followed  him  to  Castle  Rooks- 
borough,  where  she  died  suddenly  in  giving  birth 
to  her  child." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  the  baby  ? "  said 
Andrew  compassionately. 

"  Fortunately  (as  I  have  learned,  on  sending 
over  this  afternoon  to  my  friend,  the  rector  of 
Castle  Rooksborough),  a  lady  of  rank  happened  to 
be  passing  through  the  village  when  the  melan- 
choly occurrence  took  place,  and  humanely  left 
money  to  defray,  not  only  the  expenses  of  the 
mother's  funeral,  but  the  nursing  of  the  child." 

"  How  long  ago  ?  "  said  Andrew  eagerly. 

The  doctor  was  startled  by  the  quickness  of 
the  question,  and,  instead  of  giving  him  a  direct 
answer,  said,  "You  seem  surprised." 

"  What  did  they  ca'  the  leddy  ? "  exclaimed 
our  hero,  still  more  impatiently. 

"  She  wished  her  name  concealed ;  but  some 
suspicion  is  entertained  that  it  was  no  other  than 
Lady  Sandy  ford." 


EXPLANATIONS  .'](>•> 

At  these  words  Andrew  leaped  from  his  seat, 
and  ran  dancing  round  the  room,  cracking  his 
fingers  and  whistling  triumphantly.  The  reverend 
doctor  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  and  looked 
at  him  with  amazement.  At  last  Andrew  halted, 
and  going  close  up  to  him,  said,  "  Oh,  but  ye  hue 
told  me  blithe  news  !  I  could  wager  a  plack  to 
a  bawbee  that  I  have  been  ane  of  the  stupidest 
creatures  that  ever  the  Lord  took  the  trouble  to 
put  the  breath  of  life  in." 

Still  the  doctor  could  only  look  his  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Ay,"  continued  Andrew,  "ye  may  weel  glower 
with  the  ecu  of  wonder ;  for  really  this  is  a  joy 
unspeakable,  and  passing  all  understanding.  I'll 
set  off  for  Chastington  Hall  this  blessed  night — 
no ;  I'll  gang  first  to  my  leddy,  to  make  all  sure. 
YV  eel,  who  could  have  thought  that  Providence 
was  in  a  storm  to  make  me  an  instrument  in  this 
discovery  ?  " 

"Discovery  !"  echoed  the  doctor  mechanically. 

"It's  better  than  the  longitude;  il's  the  philo- 
sopher's stone  !  Oh,  doctor,  doctor !  the  grille 
of  Aladdin's  lamp  could  not  play  '  lV\v  !  '  to  you  ! 
\\  hat's  apple-rubies  and  plum-pearls  to  charity  and 
heavenly  truth  ?  But  I  maun  compose  myself,  for 
I  see  ye're  terrified,  and  think  I'm  going  off  at 
the  nail." 

"  I  am,  indeed,  exceedingly  surprised  at  the 
vehemence  of  your  conduct/'  said  the  doctor 
emphatically.  "This  news,  which  was  to  me  so 


366  Sill  ANDREW  WYLIE 

fraught  with  affliction,  seems  to  you  pregnant 
with  great  pleasure." 

"  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blaws  naebody  good  !  " 
cried  Andrew,  still  unable  to  bridle  his  joy.  "  But 
what's  pleasure  to  me  bodes  no  ill  to  you.  De- 
pend upon't,  doctor,  there's  as  little  truth  in  that 
foul  tale  of  your  nephew  and  Leddy  Sandy  ford 
as  in  a  newspaper  clash.  The  bairn  was  thought 
a  living  evidence  of  the  fact." 

"I  wish,  sir,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  "that 
you  would  take  time  to  explain  what  it  is  you 
allude  to." 

Andrew  then,  with  as  much  method  as  the  flurry 
of  his  spirits  would  allow,  related  the  mystery 
and  suspicion  which  had  attached  to  the  child 
of  the  Rose  and  Crown,  declaring  his  persuasion 
of  .Lady  Sandyford's  perfect  innocence,  and  that 
even  "  the  black  story "  of  her  fainting  in  the 
arms  of  Ferrers  would  prove,  on  examination, 
nothing  worse  than  "  the  likeness  of  a  ghost 
cawkit1  on  a  door." 

The  mind  of  the  worthy  rector  seemed  to 
derive  some  degree  of  satisfaction  from  this  as- 
surance ;  but  lie  still  deplored  the  wickedness  of 
heart  which  instigated  his  nephew  to  abandon  the 
poor  Italian  girl  in  a  situation  so  interesting. 

By  this  time  supper  was  brought  in,  and  Andrew, 

having  reflected  a  little  more  considerately  on  the 

business,   agreed   to   remain  where    he   was   that 

night.      Next  morning,  however,  the  doctor's  ser- 

1  C'lifkit.     Drawn  with  chalk. 


EXPLANATIONS  367 

vant  was  sent  to  the  nearest  town  for  a  chaise, 
and  during  his  absence  the  village  was  thrown 
into  great  consternation  in  consequence  of  a  noble- 
nian  and  his  servants  having  found  the  body  of 
a  man  who  had  been  robbed  and  mui'dered  by 
two  gipsies  in  the  forest  during  the  night.  The 
story  was  incoherently  told ;  but  the  circum- 
stances, wild  as  they  were,  made  our  hero  shrink 
with  an  involuntary  feeling  of  apprehension,  for 
he  had  no  doubt  that  the  robbers  belonged  to  the 
gang  he  had  met  with.  When  the  servant  re- 
turned, he  learned  that  the  nobleman  was  Lord 
Sandyford,  and  that  his  lordship  was  still  at  the 
inn,  to  attend  the  coroner's  inquest,  whither  he 
resolved  to  proceed  immediately. 


CHAPTER     XLVIII 

The  Examination, 

ALTHOUGH  Lord  Sandyford  had  allowed  his 
spirits  to  sink  after  what  was  considered  the  full 
discovery  of  his  lady's  infidelity,  still  he  occasion- 
ally rallied,  and,  on  hearing  of  his  friend  Mor- 
daunt's  marriage,  summoned  resolution  enough  to 
pay  him  a  complimentary  visit.  In  passing  the 
forest  early  in  the  morning  on  his  return  from  this 
visit,  the  post-boys  who  drove  his  lordship  suddenly 
stopped,  and  the  groom  in  attendance  on  horse- 
back, riding  up  to  the  window  of  the  carriage,  in- 
formed him  that  the  body  of  a  man  was  lying  on 
the  road,  and  that  he  saw  two  men,  gipsies  by 
their  appearance,  part  from  it  and  rush  into  the 
wood.  The  earl  immediately  ordered  the  body 
to  be  drawn  off  the  high-road  and  laid  on  the 
grass,  and  the  post-boys  to  make  all  the  haste 
they  could  to  the  nearest  town — the  same  to  which 
our  hero  had  sent  for  the  post-chaise.  On  his 
arrival  there,  a  party  was  immediately  formed  to 
bring  the  body,  and  to  scour  the  forest  in  quest  of 
the  murderers  ;  for  it  was  not  doubted  that  the 


THE  EXAMINATION  369 

gipsies  who  were  scared  from  the  body  had  per- 
petrated the  deed. 

By  the  time  Doctor  Saffron's  servant  had  arrived 
at  the  rectory  with  the  chaise,  the  body  was  brought 
to  the  inn  where  the  earl  was  ;  and  the  two  gipsies, 
the  father  and  son,  by  whom  Wylie  had  been  so 
hospitably  treated,  were  taken  prisoners,  and  like- 
wise carried  to  the  town. 

A  coroner's  inquest,  in  order  to  occasion  as  little 
delay  as  possible  to  the  carl,  was  immediately 
held  ;  and  both  the  post-boys  and  his  lordship's 
groom  swore  that  the  two  gipsies  were  the  persons 
whom  they  had  seen  quit  the  body  on  the  approach 
of  the  carriage.  Indeed,  no  doubt  could  be  enter- 
tained of  their  guilt ;  for  a  gold  watch  and  several 
other  articles,  which  were  known  to  be  the  pro- 
perty of  the  deceased,  were  found  in  their  posses- 
sion— the  body  being  immediately  recognised  to 
be  that  of  a  Mr  Knarl,  who  resided  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. A  verdict  of  murder  was  accordingly 
pronounced  against  the  prisoners,  and  they  were 
taken  to  the  court-house  before  Sir  Hubert  Mow- 
bray,  the  lord  of  the  manor  and  a  justice  of  the 
peace. 

The  gipsies  vehemently  protested  their  inno- 
cence of  the  crime,  but  the  young  man  confessed 
that  he  had  plundered  the  body,  declaring  at 
the  same  time  that  he  found  it  lying  dead  on 
the  highway. 

Sir  Hubert  was  of  opinion,  and  indeed  all 
present  concurred  with  him,  that  there  never 


370  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

was  a  clearer  case  of  guilt ;  and  he  added,  from 
his  own  knowledge,  that,  in  passing  through 
the  forest  with  his  servant  late  the  preceding 
evening,  he  had  seen  two  men  by  the  moonlight 
skulking  among  the  trees,  and  one  of  them 
he  could  almost  himself  swear  was  the  younger 
prisoner. 

The  gipsy  admitted  that  this  was  true,  but 
said  he  was  conducting  a  gentleman  who  had 
lost  his  way  in  the  forest,  and,  in  verification  of 
this,  presented  our  hero's  card. 

Sir  Hubert  looked  at  the  card,  and  warmly 
expressed  himself  on  the  barefaced  falsehood  of 
the  statement,  saying  it  was  absurd  to  suppose 
that  any  gentleman  would,  at  such  an  hour,  be 
passing  the  forest  with  such  a  guide ;  and  he 
added  that  the  probability  rather  was  that  the 
card  had  been  taken  from  the  person  of  the  un- 
fortunate victim.  All  the  gipsies,  young  and  old, 
were  present  at  the  examination  ;  and  the  grand- 
mother, during  the  whole  time,  preserved  a  sort 
of  emphatic  silence,  with  her  eye  steadily  and 
sternly  fixed  on  the  baronet,  who,  while  com- 
menting on  the  story,  carelessly  tore  the  card 
and  threw  it  on  the  floor.  The  boy  who  re- 
ceived the  half-crown  from  Andrew  watched  the 
old  woman  intently,  and,  on  receiving  a  signal 
from  her,  stooped  down  and  picked  up  the 
pieces. 

At  the  close  of  the  examination  the  father 
and  son  were  ordered  to  prison.  The  rest  of 


THE  EXAMINATION  371 

the  family  immediately  retired.  The  father  looked 
fiercely  at  Sir  Hubert  when  he  signed  the  war- 
rant for  their  committal,  and  the  young  man, 
with  horrible  imprecations,  exclaimed  against  the 
injustice  of  their  doom ;  but  while  he  was  de- 
claiming, the  old  woman  touched  her  lip  with 
her  forefinger,  and  he  instantly  became  silent, 
and  followed  his  father  quietly  but  sullenly  to 

jail. 

When  Lord  Sandyford,  who  had  taken  a  deep 
interest  in  this  impressive  business,  returned  from 
the  examination,  he  sent  in  quest  of  the  gipsy 
women  and  their  children,  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  them  some  assistance,  and  to  obtain  an 
explanation  of  several  circumstances  which  were 
not,  in  his  opinion,  very  clearly  made  out.  In 
fact,  the  whole  proceedings  had  been  conducted 
in  a  troubled  and  unsatisfactory  manner.  There 
was  a  tremor  and  haste  about  Sir  Hubert,  and  a 
horror  in  the  minds  of  the  spectators,  which  at 
once  awed  and  interested  him.  But  his  messen- 
ger was  unsuccessful  :  the  women,  immediately  on 
quitting  the  court-house,  had  left  the  town.  This 
desertion  of  their  relations  did  not  improve  the 
opinion  which  his  lordship  had  formed  of  their 
character;  and  while  he  was  speaking  to  the 
landlord  on  the  subject  a  post-chaise  drove  up  to 
the  door.  The  landlord,  as  in  duty  bound,  left 
the  room  to  attend  the  stranger;  and  the  earl, 
going  forward  to  the,  window,  was  agreeably  sur- 
prised to  see  the  little  sidling  figure  of  our  hero 


372  SIR  ANDREW  WYLIE 

alight.  Nor  could  he  refrain  from  smiling  when 
he  saw  Wylie  pay  the  post-boy,  and  the  lad,  after 
receiving  his  optional,  apply  for  an  addition,  and 
even  after  obtaining  another  sixoence,  still  go 
away  grumbling. 

Although  Andrew  had  hastened  with  the  ex- 
press intention  of  communicating  his  joyful  dis- 
covery respecting  the  mysterious  child,  a  degree 
of  diffidence  overcame  him  when  he  entered  the 
room,  chiefly  perhaps  occasioned  by  the  altered 
appearance  of  the  earl,  the  elegant  languor  of 
whose  expressive  countenance  was  deepened  into 
a  pale  and  settled  melancholy.  "  I  am  rejoiced 
to  see  you,"  cried  his  lordship,  with  an  effort  to 
be  gay;  "but  I  have  one  injunction  to  lay  on 
you  :  that  is,  Never  to  speak  of  Lady  Sandy- 
ford,  or  allude  to  her  story,  beyond  what  may  be 
requisite  to  the  business  for  which  I  wish  your 
assistance." 

"  But  if  I  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  her  purity, 
my  lord  ?  "  cried  Andrew. 

The  earl  interrupted  him  by  saying,  "  It  is  not 
a  matter  in  which  I  take  now  any  interest,  and  I 
request  you  to  be  silent  011  the  subject." 

Wylie,  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow  on  the 
forehead,  staggered  backward,  and  seated  him- 
self for  some  time  without  speaking.  The  earl 
was  evidently  affected  by  his  mortification,  but, 
without  noticing  it,  immediately  began  to  relate 
the  circumstances  attending  the  discovery  of  the 
murder  and  the  singular  story  of  the  younger 


THE  EXAMINATION  373 

gipsy  respecting  the  card.  This  led  our  hero  to 
recapitulate  his  own  adventures  in  the  forest. 

"  Then,"  said  the  earl,  "  the  story  of  the  gipsy 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  got  the  card  is 
perfectly  true  ?  " 

"  As  gospel/'  replied  Wylie  emphatically  ;  "and, 
considering  he's  a  gipsy,  I'm  far  wrang  if  he  isna 
an  honest  man,  gin  we  make  a  proper  allowance 
for  his  tod-like  J,  inclination  to  other  folks'  cocks 
and  hens ;  but  that's  bred  in  him  by  nature,  out 
of  his  neighbouring  wi'  puddocks  and  taids,  and 
other  beasts  of  prey  that  den  about  dykes  and 
ditches." 

"  But,"  said  the  earl,  "  the  proof  is  so  strong 
against  him  that  it  is  impossible  to  doubt ; "  and 
his  lordship  then  stated  circumstantially  what  had 
taken  place  at  the  examination. 

"  The  old  woman  is  a  pawkie  carlin,"  said 
Andrew ;  "  I  saw  that  when  I  was  supping  their 
goose-broth  ;  and  I  could  wager  a  boddle  to  a 
bawbee  that  the  whole  clanjamphrey  of  them  are 
awa'  to  London  to  speer  me  out,  in  order  to  get 
me  to  bear  testimony  as  to  the  card.  But  I 
wonder,  my  lord,  that  ye  allowed  the  justice  to 
rive  -  the  card  !  " 

"  It  was  of  no  consequence,"  replied  his  lord- 
ship, "because  he  had  himself  taken  down  your 
address." 

"\  dinna  ken/'  said  Andrew  thoughtfully. 
"Ilowsevei-,  I'll  gang  to  the  Tolbooth  and  see 
1  Tod-like.  Fox-like.  2  Rive.  Tour. 


37  i  SIB  ANDREW  WYLIE 

the  gipsy-lad,  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say  for 
himsel'.  He's  a  toozie  tyke1  in  the  looks,  that 
maun  be  alloo't ;  but  a  rough  husk  often  covers 
a  sweet  kernel." 

1  Toozie  tyke.     Uncombed  dog. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


